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"The princess always did know how to needle you, Orlov. You really shouldn't let her bother you so."

"This woman is poisonous!"

"Yet you plan to give a dinner for her."

"She is a fellow countryman," Orlov said glumly. "It is a necessary courtesy. I would prefer to be shot."

The play had already resumed when we returned to our box. Lucie seemed to be lost in thought, no longer enraptured by the stage, and I could feel her uncle sulking behind me. The charming Perdita fluttered and flitted and radiated an effervescent charm, now in pink satin, now in white, and the play eventually reached its climax and ended in a thunder of deafening applause causing the chandeliers to shake. Crystal pendants tinkled overhead as Mrs. Robinson took half a dozen curtain ealls and accepted bouquets of roses. Orlov was still in a grumpy mood as we left the box, and Lucie looked overstimulated, like a little girl who has stayed at a party too long. Orlov went outside to summon the carriage, and Lucie went with him, holding wearily on to his arm. I waited in the foyer with Sir Harry, weary myself as brilliantly dressed, chattering people streamed past UB on their way out.

"A most interesting evening," Sir Harry remarked.

"Orlov never could abide La Dashkova, nor she him."

"I take it they've known each other quite some time."

"From the beginning. Dashkova was almost as important to Catherine's
coup d'etat
as Orlov himself. She was only seventeen years old at the time but prodigiously intelligent, with a head full of the most astounding knowledge.

She and Catherine held marathon discussions about art and politics and science, staying up half the night as they argued every point. Catherine felt, perhaps rightly, that the volatile, effusive girl was her only intellectual equal in Russia."

"Remarkable," I said.

"When the palace plots began to brew, Dashkova was in the thick of things. Impudent, courageous, fiercely loyal, she ardently recruited the support of officers and brought dozens into Catherine's camp. Later, when Catherine had secured the throne and rode herself at the head of the Semeonovsky regiment in full uniform to show her people that she intended to rule like a man, Dashkova rode beside her, also in plumed helmet and full military garb. I fancy it was her greatest moment."

"It must have been an intoxicating experience for a seventeen-year-old girl."

"Far too intoxicating, alas," Sir Harry replied.

He paused as Dashkova moved past, an ermine-lined red velvet cloak wrapped about her, diamond pendants dangling from her earlobes. The black curls artfully piled on top of her head made her seem taller than she actually was. One of the young men carried her red feather fan. The other held her arm, guiding her through the crowd. The princess's dark green eyes glittered maliciously when she caught sight of us. A wry smile played on her lips as she gave Sir Barry the curtest of nods.

"She's certainly-striking," I conceded.

"Striking is the word," Sir Harry agreed. "Dashkova was never a pretty woman, and her energy. intellect, and demolishing wit have always terrified men. Her husband was little more than a cipher, though he was named Chamberlain after the coup. Dashkova had to-uh-provide financial remuneration for masculine companionship even in her twenties. Catherine showered her with riches, of course, made her a lady-in-waiting, but Dashkova was far too restless to be satisfied with that. She felt she deserved more."

"I suppose that led to a rift," I said.

"Eventually. Dashkova wasn't happy if she wasn't plotting and scheming. Feeling the Empress hadn't treated her fairly, she grew even more restless, more resentful.

Catherine adored her and found her amusing for a while, but the day finally arrived when she could no longer smile at the girl's meddling. Dashkova was packed up and packed off, and the court was considerably quieter."

"I can see why Count Orlov wouldn't take to her."

"He detested her, and the feeling was mutual. She considered him a boastful, boorish lout and was appalled by the influence he had over Catherine. She plotted against him and tried to get the Empress to replace him with someone more suitable."

"Her own candidate, I suppose."

"Very perceptive of you, my dear. She paraded a whole platoon of handsome young studs before the Empress, men who could be easily manipulated once they had won favor.

Orlov's hold on Catherine was too strong, though, and the princess was doomed to failure."

"And this is the woman he's giving a dinner for." I shook my head. "Russians!"

"Never try to figure them out. That way lies madness."

III

Only a few stragglers remained in the plush lobby, and a moment later Orlov came for us, having already placed Lucie in the carriage. A snarl of carriages jammed the street outside, horses snorting and stamping, drivers yelling angrily as they tried to make their Vfay through the melee.

Passengers leaned anxiously out of coach windows, adding to the confusion with their cries, and link boys dashed about, their torches illuminating the garish scene with flickering orange light. Orlov helped me into the sumptuous interior, shoved Sir Harry inside and, slamming the door, took it upon himself to direct our driver out of the tangle. In a matter of minutes we were free, moving down the street at a slow jog. Orlov flung the door open and jumped inside, a wide grin on his lips.

"Dashkova's carriage is in the middle of this jumble," he cried merrily. "I see it myself. It will take her driver an hour to move a foot!"

Impatient she might be, but I doubted the princess would be bored with the two strapping young students to keep her company. She was indeed fascinating, as colorful and exotic as Orlov himself. The darling of the Encyclopedists, a Greek and Latin scholar who had chatted with Catherine about science and politics yet had to pay for male companionship-yes, she was colorful. As Sir Harry began to bore Orlov with details about Dutch shipping and the German mark, I wondered if Russia ever produced any normal people. Were they all larger than life?

A full moon hung like a swollen silver-gold ball in the sky, bathing the city with a pale, milky glow that intensified the black shapes of buildings and the masses of purpleblue shadow that filled doorways and alleys. The carriage moved slowly, horse hooves clop-clop-clopping on the uneven cobblestones. Link boys trotted along beside us, torches waving like ragged orange banners in the dark, and in the shifting light I saw that Lucie looked pale and worn, a pensive look in her eyes. She idly smoothed a graceful hand over her satin skirt, then bunched the cloth nervously between her fingers. Earlier on she had been bright and vivacious, and now she looked as though she had never known a moment's joy. What had caused this sudden darkness?

We dropped Sir Harry at his lodgings and, a short while iater, drove through the brick portals and up the circular drive of Orlov's rented mansion. Lights burned in the windows, elongated yellow shafts of light on the drive. A bird was singing plaintively in the garden. Claiming she had a headache, Lucie said good night and went up to her rooms, slowly climbing the gracious spiral staircase with one hand trailing along the smooth banister, a lovely, lethargic figure in her gold-and-white-striped satin. Orlov asked me if I would like a glass of brandy. I shook my head and thanked him for a pleasant evening, then followed Lucie upstairs. Her door was closed when I passed, an indication that she didn't feel up to one of the late evening chats that had become our habit.

Half an hour later, I was sitting in my bedroom staring at the fire burning low in the marble fireplace. Although I had taken down my hair and brushed it, I was still wearing the blue silk gown I had worn to the theater. Only a few candles burned, casting soft light over the creamy white walls with their sky blue panels patterned with gilt, over the pale violet rugs and exquisite furniture. When it was late and I was alone, the memories returned to haunt me, and I felt a deep melancholy as I watched the thin golden-orange flames leap and lick at the wood. Though surprised, I welcomed the interruption when I heard someone knock on the door of the adjoining sitting room. Lucie probably isn't able to sleep either, I thought, getting to my feet. She probably wants to have our chat after all.

It wasn't Lucie. It was her uncle. He stood there in the doorway looking apologetic, as though he feared a rebuff.

He had taken off his coat and waistcoat and, over the tight black breeches and thin white lawn shirt, wore a heavy navy blue satin dressing robe that gleamed richly. His golden brown locks were tousled, and he ran his fingers through them now, clearly uneasy. I suspected that be
WHEN

neath all the swagger and braggadocio Count Orlov was quite insecure, if not actually shy.

"I do not disturb you?" he asked.

"Not at all, Count Orlov."

"I do not mean to bother you."

"You aren't bothering me, I assure you. I hadn't even made preparations for bed. Do come in."

He entered the sitting room so hesitantly I had to smile.

The former paramour of Catherine of Russia and the veteran of hundreds of sexual conquests acted as though he were breaking some cardinal rule of propriety by coming into my chambers at this hour of the night. It was not hypocrisy.

It was, rather, respect for me that caused him to be so circumspect. I was a guest in his house. There had been no lazy, seductive glances, no lingering touches. Count Orlov knew that I had been hurt, knew I had been reluctant to come here to stay with them, and he intended to do nothing that might disturb the delicate balance of polite friendship between us.

"You cannot sleep?" he asked.

"I haven't tried."

He looked concerned. "The headache still bothers you?"

"A little," I confessed.

"You should have had some brandy."

"There's a bottle in the cabinet here. Would you care for another glass?"

"Will you join me?"

I nodded and went over to the black lacquer cabinet inlaid with brass and mother-of-pearl. The sitting room was done in a Chinese style. The walls were hung with pale yellow-tan paper vivid with multicolored peonies and chrysanthemums

and birds, and wheat-colored bamboo matting

covered the floor. I took out the brandy, poured it, handed Count Orlov a glass. He thanked me with a nod and glanced curiously about the room. It was the first time he had seen it, and he seemed a bit puzzled by the lacquered screens, the cloisonne vases, and the turquoise temple dogs guarding the fireplace.

"Is strange taste you English have," he observed.

"The furniture is Chippendale. His Chinese pieces were very popular a few years ago."

"You have been comfortable here?"

"I've been very comfortable, Count Orlov."

"I am glad. Is good for you to be with friends at this time."

I sipped my brandy. He drank his quickly, as though it were vodka, tilting the glass to his lips, throwing his head back, swallowing it in great gulps. Although I had put out most of the candles in the bedroom, some still burned brightly. Orlov gazed fixedly at his empty glass. I could tell that he had something to say to me, something he didn't quite know how to say. He finally set the glass down and turned to me.

"It has been most good for Lucie, too," he said. "She has had a proper companion to do these things with while I take care of the business matters. She is most fond of you."

"I am fond of her, too."

"I appreciate the interest you take in her. She is a strange girl, Lucie. I am much concerned. These moods are not healthy."

"She is very young," I said quietly.

"With you, she is better," he told me. His deep voice was melodious, a guttural caress. "She opens up. She smiles."

"Girls her age need a companion."

"This is my point. She needs a companion, and you are the perfect one. Already she trusts you, feels at ease with you. The arrangement would be most satisfactory."

"I-I'm not sure I understand what you're saying."

Orlov looked at me with eyes that seemed to be an even deeper navy blue because of the dark blue dressing robe.

His handsome face was thoughtful. He had been so very kind to me, so gentle and considerate. I could not help but respond to his warmth.

"In two and a half weeks I shall be finished with all these tedious business affairs. Lucie and I shall be leaving for Russia. You will come with us."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Count Orlov."

He seemed surprised. "But why?"

"I have other plans," I said, putting down my brandy glass. "I'm going to find work. Eventually I'm going to earn enough money to pay my passage to America."

"What is this work you plan to do?" he asked-

"I'm not sure. I may seek a post as a governess. I'm a very good seamstress. I may seek work in a dress shop-I once owned a dress shop myself in Natchez, a city in America.

If-if necessary, I could become a housekeeper."

Count Orlov shook his head. "This is nonsense," he said gently. "Sewing, housekeeping-this is not proper work for you." .

"I haven't led a pampered life, Count Orlov. It's been anything but that. I'm willing to do any kind of work to earn the money I need."

"Yet you are not willing to come to Russia."

"It was very kind of you to ask, but I have imposed on your hospitality far too long as it is, and-"

I let the sentence fade on my lips. Orlov stepped nearer, the skirt of his dressing robe making a soft, silken rustle. I could smell his teak shaving cologne and the musky scent of his body;

"But I do not speak of hospitality," he said. "I speak of the respectable employment." .

"You want to
pay
me to go to RUSSia with you?"

Orlov nodded, amused at my surprise. A gentle smile curved on his lips as he explained.

"I know you wish to go to America," he said, "and I wish to help you. I offer to give you the money. You refuse. I think to myself, how shall I solve this problem? I see how Lucie admires you, see how happy she is to be with you, and I realize how long the journey to Russia is, how bored and unhappy she will be during the trip. I decide to offer you this employment as paid companion to my niece."