Curse Not the King by Evelyn Anthony Read Free Book Online Page B

to Paul.
    But Natalie Alexeievna had not conceived, and for that reason Panin had decided to denounce her.
    At five minutes to ten he heaved his increasing bulk out of the chair, settled his wig firmly on his bald, bullet-shaped head, gathered up his papers in their proper sequence, and went on his way to the Imperial apartments.
    The usual throng of courtiers was waiting in the ante-room of Catherine’s suite; the air was stale with mingled perfumes, and the atmosphere was stifling. The Empress’s subjects did not share her passion for open windows and the corresponding draughts.
    As he passed through into the ante-room adjoining Catherine’s own chamber, Panin’s little eyes flashed shrewdly along the lines of those whom his Empress had favoured with the promise of an early audience. He noted two generals, her secretaries, Leo Naryshkin, whose friendship with Catherine was an institution, and then glanced sharply at a tall, uniformed figure which lounged ungracefully against the very pillars of the Imperial doorway.
    He recognized the man who waited there immediately, even before the great head turned towards him, and he smiled blandly into that ugly, arrogant countenance.
    In answer to Panin’s nodded salute, the soldier barely moved. He was a man of massive build; his dress was careless to the point of disorder; his manner haughty and detached. His colouring betrayed a strong strain of Tartar blood, and though a patch covered one empty eye socket, the light of a fierce intelligence glowed in his remaining eye.
    Panin was well aware of the rumour that Vassiltchikov was about to be dismissed, but he doubted if he had just looked on the Empress’s new choice. He was far too ugly, with his sallow, Oriental features and clumsy giant’s strength. However, it was as well to err on the side of safety.
    â€œGood morning, M. Potemkin,” he said amiably, and then passed through the doors to Catherine’s private room, his mind already returned to the downfall of Natalie Alexeievna, unaware, as he went, that he had just given greeting to the man who was to prove his own.
    â€œBefore God, I’m astonished! After a few months she’s creeping into someone else’s bed!”
    The Empress threw the Minister’s report down on to her desk and regarded Panin, frowning and still almost incredulous. The Count smiled at her, and his smile was a diplomatic mixture of sympathy for his mistress and censure for the culprit, whose real fault lay in having been discovered in her crime.
    â€œIt’s most unfortunate,” he agreed, “and distressing for you and the Czarevitch. But I’m afraid there can be no doubt. The Grand Duchess is this young man’s mistress; they’re intriguing here in Petersburg. It pains me to have to shatter your Majesty’s faith in the girl, but we can’t afford to let this scandal continue. Now that we know she’s unchaste, the Grand Duchess can never be trusted again.… Even if we punish Rasumovsky, as of course we must, there’ll always be others.”
    â€œAs you say, Nikita. There’ll always be others. But what woman living will ever remain faithful to my son! As she was young and inexperienced I hoped she might settle down. But I never expected her to love him—I don’t ask for miracles, my friend!”
    â€œI know that, Madame. But I think the most vital point is being overlooked. There’s no heir of this marriage. And you must have an heir! As long as your son remains at liberty, neither you nor those who serve you can be certain of their lives.… You said yourself that he was the greatest danger to you. There’s a scandal and there’s no child after a year of marriage.… Supposing the Grand Duchess is barren! We can’t afford to wait; take her and the equerry and put them to death! That’ll teach her successor a lesson in chastity and obedience …!”
    Panin sat back and