“Up, Princess Elizabeth,” said Alexis, “take courage, my fair empress, give us an example of spirit and resolution!”

The princess slowly raised her pale face from Razumovsky’s shoulder, and looking around with timid glances, faintly said:  “I suffer fearfully!  This anguish will kill me!  My destiny is so cruel, I am so tormented.  Why must I be an empress?”

“That you may be no nun,” laconically responded Lestocq.

“And to become the greatest and loftiest woman in the world!” said Woronzow.

“To raise to your own elevation the man you love,” whispered Alexis.

With a glance of tenderness, Elizabeth nodded to him.

“Yes,” said she, “for your sake, my Alexis, I will become an empress!  Come, let us go.  But where is Grunstein?”

“With his faithful followers he awaits us before the casern of his regiment.  We go there first.”

“Then let us go!” said Elizabeth, striding forward.  But she stopped on seeing that Alexis followed with the other two.

“No,” said she, “you must not go with us, Alexis.  If I am to have courage to act and speak, I must know that you are not mingled in the strife—­I must not have to tremble for your life!  No, no, only when I know that you are concealed and in safety, can I have courage to struggle for an imperial crown.  Promise me, therefore, Alexis, that you will quietly remain here until I send a messenger for you!”

Razumovsky begged and implored in vain—­in vain he knelt before her, and covered her hands with tears and kisses.

Elizabeth remained inflexible, and, as Alexis yet persisted in his prayers, she earnestly and proudly said:  “Alexis Razumovsky, I command you to remain here.  You will obey the first command of your empress!”

“I will remain,” sighed Alexis, “and the world will point the finger of scorn at me, calling me a coward!”

“And I will compel the world to honor you as a king!” said Elizabeth, with tenderness, beckoning to Lestocq and Woronzow to follow her from the room.

Silently they hastened down the stairs—­silently was Elizabeth handed into her sledge, while Lestocq and Woronzow took their places in the second.

“Forward!” thundered Lestocq’s powerful voice, and the train rushed through the dark and deserted streets.

St. Petersburg slept.  No one appeared at the darkened windows of the silent palaces, no one boded that a new empress was passing through the streets,—­an empress, who at this time had but two subjects in her train!

They had now reached the casern of the Peobrajensky regiment.  There they halted.  In the open door stands Grunstein with his thirty recruits.

They silently approached the sledge of the princess and prostrated themselves before her.

“Hail to our empress!” whispered Grunstein low, and as low was it repeated by the soldiers.

“Let us enter the casern, call the soldiers, and awaken the officers; I myself will address them!” said Elizabeth, alighting from her sledge.  She was now full of courage and resolution.  In the face of danger now no longer to be avoided, she had suddenly steeled her heart; her father’s spirit was awakened in her.