ars could purify or
cleanse a murderer in the eyes and sense of humanity or justice! In
the next place she pleaded that she was so much pleased by Orloff's
angel daughter who stood beside him, and then with his parental
delight in her beauty, simplicity and elegance in the dance.

Mrs. Wilmot was sure I should have felt as she did, and have
forgotten the murderer in the father. But, on the contrary, I am
afraid I should have forgotten the father in the murderer; I fear I
should have seen only "_the vile spot_" which would never _out_ of
that hand! And oh! that horrible knee--I see it pressing on the
body of the breathless Peter; and, through all the music of the
ball-room band, methinks I hear "shrieks of an agonizing king."

Possibly in Russia "murder is lawful made by the excess," and may
be palliated by the impartial historian's observing, "_It was then
necessary that the Emperor should_ CEASE TO BE"--soft synonym for
assassination.

I ought not to leave Mrs. Wilmot and the Princess Dashkoff, however
this may be, with a tragical and unmerited impression on your mind.
I am quite convinced the princess had nothing to do with this
horrid affair, or that our countrywoman never would have gone or
never would have staid with her.

I can also assure you that when you read these memoirs you will be
convinced, as I am, that the Princess Dashkoff was quite pure from
all the Empress Catherine's libertine intrigues (I can use no
softer phrase). This is proved by facts, not words, for no word
does she say on the subject. But the fact is that during Orloff,
the favorite Orloff's reign and his numerous successors, the
Princess Dashkoff was never at court, banished herself on her
travels or at her far-distant _territories_; she over-rated,
idolized Catharine, but was her real friend, not flatterer.

It is scarcely worth telling you, but I will for your diversion
mention that I asked Mrs. Wilmot whether the Princess Dashkoff
evermore went about in the costume, which she described, of a man's
great-coat, with stars and strings over it, at _the ball_, and with
the sentimental old souvenir silk handkerchief about her throat.
Yes. But Mrs. Wilmot would not let me laugh at her friend, and I
liked her all the better. She defended the oddity by the kindness