Rebel Princess by Evelyn Anthony Page B

contact with her, but she would make his favorite pastime possible.
    â€œVery well then, I will bring them tomorrow. Perhaps I may let you play with them also,” he added loftily.
    Catherine swept him a silent curtsy, and when he had gone she remained by the window in his place, looking out with heavy eyes while the manly, dashing Grand Duke of her imagination strutted mockingly away into space.
    She was growing up; every nerve in her body proclaimed her advancing womanhood; and now that the bargain was made, her whole soul rebelled against Peter and his dolls, and the hideous immaturity they represented.
    Every day the Grand Duke visited his betrothed, the forbidden playthings stuffed in his uniform pockets, and spent carefree hours in her apartments till his good humor even included Catherine in his games.
    Never in his regimented life had he known the luxury of a playmate or been free of adult company, and for a time his instinctive fear of Catherine lessened as they laughed and romped on the floor together. His twisted mind saw only enemies about him, but there were times when he could forget that the willing companion of his childish games was also to be his wife, and then there was almost friendship between them.
    Catherine looked up in surprise one day when suddenly he dropped his puppets and shaded his eyes with a hand that trembled slightly, for the afternoon had scarcely begun. She noticed with alarm that his face was livid and that two harsh patches of color burnt on each cheek.
    Pushing the dolls to one side, she slid across the floor on her knees towards him.
    â€œWhat is it, Peter? What ails you, are you ill?” she asked in a whisper. The Grand Duke shook his head and began rubbing his eyes like a fretful child.
    â€œI don’t know,” he answered. “My head aches and my eyes are sore. ’Tis only a chill though, and you are not to tell or I shall be physicked again!” He looked warily over his shoulder and then leant near Catherine.
    â€œOne day I know they will try to poison me, and I must never be taken unawares or their plan may succeed! When I am Czar I shall have a food-taster,” he added.
    Catherine gazed at him in astonishment. Who would try to poison him? It was impossible, a figment of his disordered brain, yet the wretched youth shook with fear before her eyes.
    â€œHush, Peter,” she said quickly. “No one would harm you. You mustn’t think such things. But rest easy, I will not tell that you are unwell.…”
    Peter picked up his favorite doll, a little soldier dressed in the uniform of Frederick’s Prussian Guard, then laid it down again. He looked at Catherine with strange simplicity and directness.
    â€œI believe that if I were not going to marry you, I would not hate you so,” he remarked calmly.
    Despite herself, Catherine blushed with disappointment.
    â€œTell me, why do you hate me?” she asked suddenly.
    Peter frowned crossly. Often enough he could not understand his actions and feelings properly himself, let alone explain them to someone else. “I have just told you … because I have to marry you, and I do not fancy marriage, least of all to you! You are my aunt’s choice, remember, I did not want you. Now she prefers you to me. Indeed everyone does,” he continued with growing resentment. “You are a mere nobody, yet you come here and try to displace me. Oh, do not think I have not noticed! Believe me, I notice everything, and I knew from the first that you would be my enemy like the rest of these damnable Russians!”
    Catherine had not yet learnt the folly of trying to reason with a lunatic.
    â€œBut I am not a Russian,” she reminded him. It was an unfortunate remark, for Peter turned on her in fury.
    â€œYou remember that a little late, Madame,” he shouted, his sallow face suffusing with rage. “For a German and a subject of His Majesty King Frederick, you take surprising