He was very handsome, this young singer, and as Elizabeth saw him in this moment, she congratulated herself that her connoisseur-glance had quickly remarked him, when, some weeks previously, she had first seen him as the precentor of the imperial chapel.

Surprised and excited by the beauty of his form and the sweetness of his voice, Elizabeth had begged him of the lord-marshal for her private service, and since then Alexis Razumovsky had entered her house as her private secretary and the manager of her small estate.

While Alexis was singing with his sweetly-melting tones, Elizabeth turned her swimming eyes to the two men who were standing in respectful silence behind her.

“You must acknowledge,” said she in a low tone, and as if oppressed by internal commotion, “that you never saw nor heard say any thing finer than my Alexis.”

“Oh, yes,” said one of these men, with a low bow, “we have seen you!”

“And did we not yesterday hear you sing this same charming slumber-song, princess?” asked the other.

Elizabeth smiled.  “It is already well known that Woronzow and Grunstein must always flatter!” said she.

“No, we do not flatter,” responded Woronzow, the chamberlain of the princess, “we only love truth!  You ask if we have ever seen any thing more beautiful than your private secretary, and we answer that we have seen you!”

“Well, now, you have all so often assured me that I am the handsomest woman in Russia, that at length I am compelled to believe you.  But Alexis is fortunately a man, and therefore not my rival; you may, then, fearlessly confess that Alexis is the handsomest of all men!  But how is this?” exclaimed the princess, interrupting herself, as the handsome young singer suddenly sprang up and threw his guitar aside with an indignant movement; “do you sing no more, Alexis?”

“No,” frowardly responded the young man, “I sing no more, when my princess no longer listens!”

“There, see the ungrateful man,” said the princess, with a charming smile—­“he was occupying all my thoughts, and yet he dares complain!  You are a malefactor deserving punishment.  Come here to me, Alexis; kneel, kiss my hand, and beg for pardon, you calumniator!”

“That is a punishment for which angels might be grateful!” responded Alexis Razumovsky, kneeling to the princess and pressing her hand to his burning lips.  “Ah, that I might oftener incur such punishment!”

“Do you then prefer punishment to reward?” asked Elizabeth, tenderly bending down to him and looking deep into his eyes.

“She loves him!” whispered Grunstein to the chamberlain Woronzow.  “She certainly loves him!”

Elizabeth’s fine ear caught these words, and, slowly turning her head, she slightly nodded.  “Yes,” said she, “Grunstein is right—­she loves him!  Congratulate me, therefore, my friends, that the desert void in my heart is at length filled—­congratulate me for loving him.  Ah, nothing is sweeter, holier, or more precious than love; and I can tell you that we women are happy only when we are under the influence of that divine passion.  Congratulate me, then, my friends, for, thank God, I am in love!  Now, Alexis, what have you to say?”