Short Fiction

required much time; and it was thought at once a surer and shorter way, to apply immediately to the Emperor. A little time, however, was necessary to determine by what means this could be done. Meanwhile, Prascovia was advised not to continue her application to the Senate, the narrative of which greatly diverted the company. Towards evening, Mrs. L. sent her little protégée home, accompanied by a servant. As soon as she could revert to the different incidents of that day, Prascovia, according to the ordinary bent of her mind, reflected on the wonderful ways, by which Providence disposes events in favour of those whom it designs to protect. How fortunate was it for her, she thought, to have presented her letter to Mrs. L., on the same day that her relative sought to make his peace with her! In passing before the Senate, she remembered her prayer not to be obliged to re-enter that palace, more than once. “God, in his great mercy, has done more than I requested, for I shall not be under the necessity of going into it again;⁠—and that bronze monument,” added she, looking at the statue of Peter the Great, “was the instrument which the Almighty used to direct my steps.”

Notwithstanding the lively interest of her new friends, she was destined to attain her end by other assistance than theirs.

The merchant, who had returned from Riga a few days before, was astonished to find Prascovia still in his house, and had begun to inquire for that of the Princess T. This lady, who already expected Prascovia, ordered him to bring her immediately. Though she regretted to leave the good people with whom she had lived for two months, she was too intent on her great purpose, not to be anxious to be introduced, as early as possible, to a protectress, from whom she might derive the most important services.

A Swiss in showy livery opened the door. Prascovia taking him for a Senator, dropped a low courtesy. “It is only the doorkeeper, child,” whispered her host.⁠—When they had reached the first story, the Swiss rang twice. Prascovia did not know the meaning of it; but having remarked, that the doors of some shops were provided with bells, she imagined that it was a precaution against thieves. In the saloon, everything she saw and heard, was calculated to fill her with admiration and amazement. Never had she seen so much splendour; never had she entered a room lighted like this; never had she imagined that a large company could move with so little noise, converse in almost inaudible voices, and bear the same air of dignity and state. The company was dispersed in small groups: the youngest among them, were round card-tables, in one corner of the saloon. Many persons were standing near one of these tables, where the Princess was playing whist with three other persons. As soon as she saw Prascovia, she motioned her to approach. “Good evening, my dear: have you not a letter for me?” Unluckily she had not yet taken it from her little bag, and was rather awkward in getting it from under her tucker, which caused some whispering and tittering among the younger part of the company. The Princess read the letter attentively. Her partner, who was not much pleased with this interruption of the game, drummed on the table, and fixed an ill humoured look on the new guest. Prascovia thought she recognized in him the corpulent gentleman, who had refused to receive her petition. While the Princess was folding the letter, the gentleman bolted out with his “trumps!” Prascovia, already greatly disconcerted, observing that he continued to stare at her, thought probably he had said something to her, and asked with trepidation, “What do you say, Sir?” the laughers did not lose the occasion to be merry at her expense. The Princess greatly commended her conduct and filial piety, and promised to assist her. Turning then towards a lady who was sitting next her, she addressed a few words to her, in French, whereupon the latter took Prascovia politely by the arm, and conducted her to the room which was prepared for her.

During the first days of her abode in the Princess’s palace, Prascovia, finding herself almost always alone, was low-spirited, and regretted not only the company of her friends at Vasili-Ostrov, but even the house of the merchant. Insensibly she became more familiar with her new acquaintances, and, to the humblest servant, every person in the house endeavoured to imitate the kindness with which the Princess distinguished her. Though she eat at the table of this lady, she never had an opportunity of speaking with her, and her protectress was often prevented, by the infirmities of age, from dining with her. The persons of her retinue soon became so much accustomed to Prascovia’s face, that they forgot she was a stranger, and what her business was. When she begged one of them to mention her affair to their mistress, her entreaties were fruitless, whether because they neglected to speak to the Princess, or because the latter found it impossible to fulfil her intentions. She visited sometimes her less illustrious friends in Vasili-Ostrov, and put all her hopes on their assistance.

During the time she lived at the merchant’s, a clerk of the Empress-mother’s Cabinet Secretary, Mr. Violier, had advised her to solicit her Majesty for succour, and had offered to take charge of her petition. The Secretary, believing that she needed only the ordinary relief of the poor, set apart fifty roubles for her, and sent her word to call on him. The next morning she went to his house: he was absent, but Mrs. Violier, received Prascovia, talked with her, and heard her story with as much surprise as interest. The acquaintance between charitable persons and the afflicted, is like the meeting of old friends, long separated by travels or difference of fortune. In the first hour that Prascovia passed with Mrs. Violier, she felt for her