" At a later period, as we have already
said, he became an admiral and a favorite of Potemkin, the
fourth of Catharine's lovers.
It was a dark and dreadfully cold night. St. Petersburg slept; the
streets were deserted and silent. But there, upon the place where
Elizabeth once caused the beautiful Lapuschkin to be tortured, there
torches glanced, there dark forms were moving to and fro, there a
mysterious life was stirring. What was being done there?
No spectators are to-night assembled around these barriers. Catharine
had commanded all St. Petersburg to sleep at this hour, and accordingly
it slept. Nobody is upon the place--nobody but the cold, unfeeling
executioners and their assistants--nobody but that pale, feeble, and
shrunken woman, who, in her slight white dress, kneels at the feet of
her executioners. She yet lives, it is true, but her soul has long since
fled, her heart has long been broken. The chains and tortures of her
imprisonment have done that for her. It was Alexis Orloff who murdered
Natalie's heart and soul. For him had she wept until her tears had been
exhausted--for him had she lamented until her voice had become
extinct. She now no longer weeps, no longer complains; glancing at her
executioners, she smiles, and, raising her hands to God, she thanks him
that at last she is about to die.
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