“Ah,” sighed Elizabeth, when, on the evening of this glorious day, she was again alone with her confidential friends, “ah, my friends, I have now complied with your wishes and allowed you to make an empress of me!  But forget not, Lestocq, that I have become empress only on condition that I am not to be troubled with business and state affairs.  This has been a day of great exertion and fatigue, and I hope you will henceforth leave me in repose.  I have done what you wished, I am empress, and have rewarded you for your aid, but now I also demand my reward, and that is undisturbed peace!  Once for all, in my private apartments no one is to speak of state affairs, here I will have repose; you can carry on the government through your bureaux and chancelleries; I will have nothing to do with it!  Here we will be gay and enjoy life.  Come here, my Alexis,—­come here and tell me if this imperial crown is becoming, and whether you found me fair in my ermine-trimmed purple mantle?”

“My lofty empress is always the fairest of women,” tenderly responded Alexis.

“Call me not empress,” said she, drawing him closer to her.  “That brings again to mind all the hardships and wearinesses I have this day encountered.”

“Only yet a moment, your majesty; let me remind you that you are now empress, and, as such, have duties to perform!” pressingly exclaimed Lestocq.  “You have this day exercised the pleasantest right of your imperial power—­the right of rewarding and making happy.  But there remains another and not less important duty; your majesty must now think of punishing.  The regent, and her husband and son, are prisoners; as, also are Munnich, Ostermann, Count Lowenwald, and Julia von Mengden.  You must think of judging and punishing them.”

Elizabeth had paid no attention to him.  She was whispering and laughing with Alexis, who had let down her long dark hair, and was now playfully twining it around her white neck.

“Ah, you have not listened to me, your majesty,” impatiently cried Lestocq.  “You must, however, for a few moments remember your dignity, and direct what is to be done with the imprisoned traitors.”

“Only see, Alexis, how this new lord privy counsellor teases me,” sighed the princess, and, turning to Lestocq, she continued:  “I think you should understand the laws better than I, and should know how traitors are punished.”

“In all countries high-treason is punished with death,” said Lestocq, gloomily.

“Well, let these traitors fare according to the common usage, and kill them,” responded Elizabeth, comfortably extending herself upon the divan.

“But your majesty has this day abolished the punishment of death.”

“Have I so?  Ah, yes, I now remember.  Well, as I have said it, I must keep my word.”

“And the regent, Prince Ulrich, the so-called Emperor Ivan, Counts Ostermann, Munnich, Lowenwald, as well as Julia von Mengden, and the other prisoners, are all to remain unpunished?”