Eleonore Lapuschkin

For two long years had Elizabeth borne about with her this hatred and
jealousy; for two long years had she in vain sought to discover some
punishable fault in her rival; for two long years had she in vain
reminded Lestocq of his promise to find Eleonore Lapuschkin guilty of
some crime. She had come out pure from all these persecuting pursuits,
and even the eyes of the most zealous spy could find no blot upon
her escutcheon. Like a royal lily she proudly bloomed with undisputed
splendor in the midst of this court, whose petty cabals and intrigues
could not soil her fair fame. Her presence spread around her a sort
of magic. The most audacious courtier, the most presumptuous cavalier,
approached her with only reverence; they ventured not in her presence to
use such words and jests as but too well pleased the empress; there was
something in Eleonore's glance that commanded involuntary respect and
awe; an elevation, a mildness, a soft feminine majesty was shed over
her whole being that enchanted even those who were inimical to her.
Elizabeth had perceived that, with her eyes sharpened by jealousy; her
envy was yet more mighty than her vanity, and her envy told her Eleonore
Lapuschkin is handsomer than the Empress Elizabeth; wherever Eleonore
appears, there all hearts fly to meet her, all glances incline to her;
every one feels a sort of ecstasy of adoration whom she greets with a
word or a smile, for that word or that smile sanctifies him as it were,
and enrolls him among the noblest and best.