Rebel Princess Read Online Free PDF Page A

small and twisted among the splendid towering Russians, and, in spite of all, her heart filled with a strange, momentary pity for the callow, shiftless youth whose glance rested upon his imperial aunt with a look of loathing and fear that his scowls and posturings did nothing to conceal.
    In the midst of that great assembly the terrifying lunatic, who had greeted her less than two hours previously, appeared only an ugly, feeble-minded boy, ill at ease and strangely nervous. Who would be cruel enough to oppress a youth whose wits were obviously none too stable and whose pallor and physique proclaimed him delicate and miserably immature? Augusta looked once more at the Empress, engaged in pleasant conversation with the voluble Johanna.
    Surely the tyrant could not be Elizabeth. But a small frightened voice inside her asked persistently, if not the Empress, who else? And Augusta could not answer.
    Long after they had been dismissed and lay resting in their own apartments, Augusta relived the audience in her mind with the Prince of Homburg’s words echoed in her uneasy brain.
    â€œThe way to the Empress’s heart lies through meekness.” Lying there in the darkness, while Johanna snored, Augusta thought of the vast, snow-covered land that Elizabeth had seized for herself one night less than four years ago, marching at the head of her devoted Russian Guards to overthrow the Regent.
    It was said in Germany that the throne of the Czars had always been occupied by means of bloodshed and revolution. With God’s grace and her own good sense she would succeed to it peacefully by marriage, and for this end she determined to be meek indeed.…
    And upon that resolution the future Catherine, whom history would style the Great, fell into a weary sleep.
    At midnight the sleeping princesses were roused by an army of waiting women and lackeys bearing gifts from the Empress and a command to attend the state banquet which was to begin during the small hours. Elizabeth’s presents were magnificent: dozens of beautiful gowns, heaps of embroidered underclothes and innumerable pairs of shoes were laid out for Johanna’s approval, while a whole wardrobe was placed at Augusta’s disposal.
    Johanna, finally gowned in purple satin over an immense hoop, paused to look at her daughter and felt a pang of envy at the picture of loveliness that met her critical eye. Augusta had chosen a dress of pink brocade which gleamed with silver thread, and a necklace of rubies out of Elizabeth’s own jewel box glittered round her throat.
    Johanna’s suppressed jealousy gave vent to an angry summons and her hand itched to box her daughter’s ears as in the old days at Stettin, but too many pairs of Russian eyes were upon her and she promised herself that satisfaction another time.
    Not less than a thousand guests sat in the vast Banqueting Hall of the Wooden Palace, and the scene that greeted Augusta was a strange mixture of Western luxury and barbaric splendor. She had never seen such myriads of candles, such a glitter of gold plate upon the long tables burdened with elaborate dishes; even Frederick’s stately Berlin court paled almost to shabbiness before the magnificence of Elizabeth’s imperial setting. The very lackey who pulled out her chair wore a uniform more gorgeous than any possessed by Christian of Anhalt.
    Immediately opposite her sat the Grand Duke, weighed down with jeweled orders. He returned her greeting with marked ill grace, glancing constantly at the empty chair that stood at the head of the table. The furtive hatred in his expression alarmed Augusta more than ever.
    Elizabeth had not yet appeared, and something of Peter’s unease crept into her as she played with the spicy Russian food and sipped at the wine in her golden goblet. She watched the Grand Duke push his platter to one side and drain his wine cup again and again, till at length he began cursing the impassive servants and shouting for