"
The regent had constantly become more serious and gloomy. A dark,
fatal suspicion for a moment overclouded her soul, and in her usually
unsuspicious mind arose the questions: "What if Ostermann was right,
if Elizabeth is really conspiring, and the French ambassador is her
confederate?"
"And what, if one may ask, was the subject of the wager?" she asked,
with the tone of an inquisitor.
"Ah, this good marquis," said the princess, laughing, "had never yet
experienced the rigor of a Russian winter, and he would not believe that
our Neva with its rushing streams and rapid current would in winter be
changed into a very commodious highway. I wagered that I would convince
him of the fact, and be the first to cross it on the ice; he would not
believe me, and declared that I should lack the courage. Well, of course
I did it, and won my wager!"
The regent had not turned her eyes from the princess while she was
thus speaking. This serene calmness, this unembarrassed childishness,
completely disarmed her. The dark suspicion vanished from her mind;
Anna breathed freer, and laid her hand upon her heart as if she would
restrain its violent beating. The letter of Lynar slightly rustled under
her hand.
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