a festival day, for it was
the name-day of the princess.

The rooms were adorned with festoons and garlands, and all her
dependants and friends were gathered around her. Elizabeth saw not the
limited number of this band; she enjoyed herself with those who were
there, and lamented not the much greater number of those who had
forgotten her.

She was among her friends, in her little reception-room. Evening had
come, the household and the less trusted and favored of her adherents
had withdrawn, and only the most intimate, most favored friends now
remained with the princess.

They had conversed so long that they now recurred to the enjoyment of
that always-ready, always-pleasing art, music. A young man sang to the
accompaniment of a guitar.

Elizabeth listened, listlessly reclining upon her divan. Behind her
stood two gentlemen, who, like her, were delightedly listening to the
singing of the youth.

Elizabeth was a blooming, beautiful woman. She was to-day charming
to the eye in the crimson-velvet robe, embroidered with silver, that
enveloped her full, voluptuous form, leaving her neck and _gorge_ free,
and displaying the delicate whiteness of her skin in beautiful contrast
with the purple of her robe. Perhaps a severe judge might not have
pronounced her face handsome according to the rules of the antique, but
it was one of those faces that please and bewitch the other sex; one of
those beauties whose charm consists not so much in the regularity of
the lines as in the ever-varying expression. There was so much that was
winning, enticing, supercilious, much-promising, and warm-glowing, in
the face of this woman! The full, swelling, deep-red lips, how charming
were they when she smiled; those dark, sparkling eyes, how seducing
were they when shaded by a soft veil of emotional enthusiasm; those
faintly-blushing cheeks, that heaving bosom, that voluptuous form, yet
resplendent with youthful gayety--for Elizabeth had not yet reached her
thirtieth year--whom would she not have animated, excited, transported?

Elizabeth knew she was beautiful and attractive, and this was her
pride and her joy. She could easily pardon the German princess, Anna
Leopoldowna, for occupying the throne that was rightfully her own, but
she would never have forgiven the regent had she been handsomer than
herself. Anna Leopoldowna was the most powerful woman in Russia, but
she, Elizabeth, was the handsomest woman in Russia, which was all she
coveted