o gay and ingenuous, she plays with roses under
which serpents lie concealed! It is my duty to warn her, and I will."

Wholly penetrated with this noble and generous resolution, the regent
drew her cousin Elizabeth into the little boudoir which lay at the end
of the hall, offering a convenient resting-place for a confidential
conversation.

But at this moment Anna's eyes fell upon the lace mantelet of the
princess, and quite involuntarily came to her mind the warning words of
Ostermann, who had said to her: "The French ambassador, by command of
his government, provides the princess not only with money, but also
with the newest modes and most costly stuffs." This lace mantelet could
surely only come from Paris; nothing similar to it had been seen in St.
Petersburg; it certainly required especial sources and especial means
for the procurement of such a rare and magnificent exemplar.

A cloud drew over the regent's brow, and in a rather sharp and cutting
tone she said; "One question, princess! How came you by this admirable
lace veil, the like of which I have not seen here in St. Petersburg?"

While putting this question, the regent's eyes were fixed with a
piercing, interrogating expression upon the face of the princess: she
wished to observe the slightest shrinking, the least movement of her
features.

But Elizabeth was prepared for the question; she had already considered
her answer with the marquis and Lestocq. Her features therefore betrayed
not the least disturbance or disquiet; raising her bright and childlike
eyes, she said, with an unconstrained smile: "You wonder, do you not,
how I came by this costly ornament? Ah, I have for the last eight days
rejoiced in the expectation of surprising you to-day with the sight of
it!"

"But you have not yet told me whence you have these costly laces?" asked
the regent in a sharper tone.

"It is a wager I have won of the good Marquis de la Chetardie," said
Elizabeth, without embarrassment, "and your highness must confess that
this French ambassador has paid his wager with much taste."

The regent had constantly become more serious and gloomy. A dark,
fatal suspicion for a moment overclouded her soul, and in her usually
unsuspicious mind arose the questions: "What if Ostermann was right,
if Elizabeth is really conspiring, and the French ambassador is her
confederate?"

"And what, if one may ask, was the subject of the wager?" she asked,
with the tone of an inquisitor.