by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XXXIV
A DIVIDED HEART
Zeneida was celebrating three days of mourning in one. The first,Sophie's funeral; the second, Pushkin's marriage; the third, her ownname-day.
It had been Sophie's last wish that the wedding should precede herfuneral.
Her soul in its ascent to heaven would see and hear the bliss of the twoshe had loved so dearly on earth.
According to Russian custom the lid was only screwed down on to thecoffin just before it was lowered into the grave; with face uncoveredthe wanderer to the Hereafter is borne to his last resting-place.
"Make the ceremony a short one!" Zeneida had said to the officiatingpriest.
The Patriarch of Solowetshk, whose feet had sufficient Russianunderstanding to suffer from a severe attack of gout that day, had senta priest in his stead. Let his inferior have his beard shaved off ifthings go amiss, and not him. For if a priest rashly marry a runawaycouple the marriage is legal, but _the priest's beard is shaved off_,and he is forced to become a soldier. During the wedding ceremony,according to custom, two doves were set flying over the heads of thebridal pair. They fluttered for a time round the veranda, then letthemselves down on to the catafalque, at the head of the dead girl,where the crucifix stood; there, the one on the right hand, the otheron the left, above the head of the "martyr to love," they billed andcooed through the whole ceremony.
The dead girl might well be content. All had been done as she haddirected; Bethsaba wore the pink silk wedding-dress; the platinum diademadorned her brow.
"That is over," said Zeneida. "Now follows the other--quick, quick!"
Bethsaba must now change the pink wedding-dress for a black one for theconsecration of the dead. Zeneida helped her to dress; Pushkin waitedwithout.
Bethsaba wept on and on, whether clad in pink or black.
Zeneida betrayed no tendency that day to sentimentality. Her uttercallousness bordered on cynicism.
"But we shall see Sophie again in the next world, shall we not?" sobbedBethsaba.
"Yes, yes," muttered Zeneida. "And to which of you will Pushkin belongthen?"
That was the question.
Bethsaba was startled. Her large eyes remained fixed on Zeneida.
"And suppose he should belong to neither of you?" continued Zeneida,drawing her strongly marked eyebrows together. "Or do you imagine thatin the hereafter there will still be a greater Russia crushing a lesserFinland beneath its heel, so that even then a fool will be found to openthe gate of Paradise for some one else, while she herself goes intoperdition!"
This outburst revealed Zeneida's secret to Bethsaba. Rigid with dismay,she stammered out:
"You, too, loved him?"
"Do not ask. Rejoice that he is yours, and do not wish yourself in thenext world with him, but do your utmost to keep him to you in this."
"And you, too, loved him?" repeated Bethsaba, sorrowfully.
"As you have discovered it, make your discovery of some use," saidZeneida, with seeming affectation. "Now, at least, you know from whomyou have to guard him. Take care to keep him away from me. Now you knowthe sort of person I am. I take pleasure in enticing away the husbandsand causing the wives bitter tears. Your godmother was right. _I am avery devil._ Do not bring your Aleko back to St. Petersburg."
Bethsaba, throwing herself on Zeneida's bosom, embraced her.
"It is not true--not true--not true! You cannot deceive me. Tell me whyyou gave me Pushkin's heart, when you might so easily have kept it foryourself? There must be some weighty reason that induced you to do it.Tell it me; he is my husband now. I must know all about him. Even if itbe--that he loves me not."
Zeneida, now looking down with gentle smile on the young bride in hermourning-dress, took her in her arms, and in fond embrace drew her toher heart.
"So you do not think me so bad that you will need to guard your husbandfrom me? Well, then, I will tell you from whom you must guard him. Thereis a lovely woman, more captivating than any you have ever seen--moreseductive, intoxicating, more insatiable. Her name is 'Eleutheria.' Shecan entice the bridegroom from his bride at the very altar rails, andthe father of a family from his dear ones; and whom she once captivatesshe keeps fast hold of till his last heart's blood is spent. His everythought is hers. It is this dread woman who is your rival. Guard yourhusband from all remembrance of her, for he is in love with her."
"'Eleutheria!' that means Freedom."
"She bathes in men's blood. It is that which makes her so beautiful. Theonly presents she will accept are hecatombs; and of hearts and men sheonly chooses such as are worth the price of gold and diamonds. The womanwho has such a diamond to call her own should guard him well. Nopleasure-seeker, no drunkard, no gambler follows his besetting sin soreadily as he whom Eleutheria has once enslaved. She has but toproclaim, 'My service demands the lives of men,' and thousands uponthousands of her worshippers answer, 'Here is mine; take it.' Bewarethat Pushkin be not among them!"
Bethsaba let the arms encircling Zeneida's waist sink until theyembraced her knees.
"Oh, unapproachable saint! You who rejected his heart that you mightsave his head. Speak, counsel me, how shall I set about doing that whichyou have charged me to do. It is so difficult. How shall I carry it out,that my work be successful?"
And Zeneida, raising the young bride, began to whisper the sensibleadvice to her that experienced women are wont to give theirinexperienced younger sisters.
"Give up to him in everything. Do not contradict him. If he change hismind seven times in a day, change yours with him. Divine his thoughtsand forestall his wishes. If you know one thought of his, you can guessthe others. If he be out of temper, do not irritate him with questionsas to the reason. In such a mood the dearest face is unwelcome. Requitehis love with your whole soul, and do not hide your joy from him. But donot flatter him, for that would turn him from you. Do your utmost tomake his home pleasant to him. Let your house and his surroundings bepure and peaceful, yourself be ever cheerful and loving; never let himhear your voice raised harshly to your servants. If he desire to showhospitality, see that you make a good hostess. Do not keep him back fromhis manly pursuits. Never ask where he is going, whence he comes. Aboveall, never betray jealousy. What woman is there who can sufficientlystifle jealousy as not to feel it? Therefore must her heart, hisadvocate, keep watch that it clear him, even if eyes and ears accusehim. Never meet him with tearful eyes, but keep a strict watch over yourown actions. It is not necessary to play the prude with strangers and tobe always flying to your husband for protection; that would only renderhim ridiculous, and lead to many disagreeables. But never, whether fromhigh spirits or feminine vanity, allow other men to pay you attentionswhich might arouse your husband's jealousy. If anything annoy you, tellit him gently and at once. Do not brood over it until it grows and hereads the trouble in your face. Be easily pacified. Throughout, beyourself, equable, ever the same; for, in an evil hour, some fatalmoment may suffice to recall his forsaken love, Eleutheria, to his mind,and to throw him again into her arms."
The little bride listened to her words as though they were the words ofHoly Scripture.
"I will help you to keep him at home and from returning to St.Petersburg. I will write you letters saying that the Czar is furiousthat he whom he had chosen as his daughter's husband should have beencapable of marrying another on the very day of her funeral. It will notbe true, for I shall show the Czar Sophie's will, and it will disarmhim, but Pushkin must be made to believe that he is in disgrace, anddare not return to St. Petersburg without special permission. And wewill expunge his name from 'the green book,' that he receive no moreinvitations to meetings. Let him be hidden in your arms until bettertimes dawn or--what I far rather believe in--until the day of ourextinction. When all is over, then you may come back to the world. Untilthen we must keep him in the belief that for him, exiled by his Czar,vilified by his peers, there is no other world than his love and hisOlympus. And are they not, in themselves, two worlds--two heavens?"
> Pushkin entered.
"Not ready yet?"
"Leave us alone! I am just about to spoil your wife. I am advising herhow to keep you under her thumb. You are not to listen."
"All very fine. The first hour we are together she will tell me allabout it."
The choristers in the chamber of death now began their solemn chant. Itwas a long ceremony, but it, too, came to an end. The priest, taking thetwo candlesticks, held them over the cross while he spake the blessing,walked three times round the coffin waving incense, then placed theparchment containing the list of sins, at the end of which was inscribedthe absolution, into the dead child's hands as her passport intoeternity; after which the candles on the catafalque were extinguished.The two doves upon the crucifix continued their billing and cooing.
They carried out the coffin to the barge draped with funereal hangings.Many blossoms from the garden accompanied it; it was covered withwreaths. The blue, green, and red lights glared in the twilight. Thechoristers continued their chant, the gentle plash of the oars markingtime to it. Long those left behind gazed after the departing boat, untilthe next wooded island hid it from their view.
"She has gone on her journey!" said Zeneida; there were no tears in hereyes. "Now it is your turn. Quick! No leave-takings; they are sowearisome. Be off with you! I have my guests to see to, a right merrycompany. I must hurry back. One kiss is enough, Bethsaba; you may givethe others to your Aleko. Take quickly with you what is yours."
"Alas! that is impossible," sighed Pushkin, who had the bad habit ofbeing unable to keep back what was in his mind. "One part she who isgliding away in that gondola has taken with her; a second part you take;to this poor child belongs only the remainder."
"That is not true," returned Zeneida, with proud, radiant face. "She whohas gone back to heaven has bequeathed her part in you to your wife; shewho is here has, even now, given up to her that which she might havepossessed. Bethsaba knows all about it. You are hers, wholly, entirely.And now, God be with you!"
And she held out her hand to him. The allies of the new epoch did notkiss in greeting.
And as Pushkin pressed the hand she held out to him, a ray of joy passedover Zeneida's countenance. Freemasons have a sign by which theyrecognize each other in hand pressure. _Pushkin had not given the signthis time._
Already he had forgotten his former love. To the new one, to whom he hadplighted his marital troth, he belonged wholly, entirely.
It was as "she" had desired; and smilingly Zeneida waved her whitehandkerchief to the vanishing gondola, which a troika awaited on theopposite bank. Only when she could see it no longer did she hide herface in the said white handkerchief, and whether it was bedewed withtears or not that handkerchief alone can tell. She did not remove itfrom her eyes until her gondolier addressed her.
"If you please, madame, the rockets on Kreskowsky Island have begun."
"Ah yes. You are right. The third funeral awaits me!"
With that she hastened into her gondola, and within its closed curtainssang, in a low voice:
"By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept; For they that led us away captive required of us a song, Saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning."