On Elizabeth's death, in the year 1762, her husband was glad to retire
from the Court in which he had for so long played so splendid a part.
"None but myself," he said, "can know with what pleasure I leave a
sphere to which I was not born, and to which only my love for my dear
mistress made me resigned. I should have been happier far with her in
some small cottage far removed from the gilded slavery of Court life."
He was happy enough now leading the peaceful life of a country gentleman
on one of his many estates.

Catherine II. had mounted the throne of Russia--the Empress who,
according to Masson, had but two passions, which she carried to the
grave--"her love of man, which degenerated into libertinage; and her
love of glory, which degenerated into vanity." A woman with the brain of
a man and the heart of a courtesan, Catherine's fickle affection had
flitted from one lover to another, until now it had settled on Gregory
Orloff, the handsomest man in her dominions, whom she was more than half
disposed to make her husband.

This was a scheme which commended itself strongly to her Chancellor,
Vorontsov. There was a most useful precedent to lend support to it--the
alliance of the Empress Elizabeth with a man of immeasurably lower rank
than Catherine's favourite; but it was important that this precedent
should be established beyond dispute. Thus it was that one day, when
Count Alexis was poring over his Bible by his country fireside,
Chancellor Vorontsov made his appearance with ingratiating words and
promises. Her Majesty, he informed the Count, was willing to confer
Imperial rank on him in return for one small favour--the possession of
the documents which proved his marriage to her predecessor, Elizabeth.

On hearing the request, the ex-shepherd rose, and, with words of quiet