by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XLI
HOW TO ROB A MAN OF HIS WIFE
It must be a poor toy that cannot amuse children. And there can be nogreater children than a newly married couple who are deeply in love witheach other.
There is kite-flying in the park at Pleskow; Bethsaba is in high glee ather kite always flying straight up and remaining aloft, whileAlexander's is always coming to grief. Her kite, too, is much handsomerthan his. In the form of a dragon, it has two large eyes, a mouth, nose,and movable ears; while Alexander's is just a commonplace thing, madeout of old scraps of manuscripts pasted together. The wide expanseaffords the two grown-up children room enough to run with their kites.No eyes to see them but those of the stag on the edge of the forest.
A post-chaise rolls quickly along the highway skirting the park walls;the postilion blows his horn cheerily.
"I think that post-chaise must have stopped at our gate," observesBethsaba.
"So it has. It means either a guest or a letter."
"Oh, I hope no guest," sighed the little wife.
Newly married folk are not hospitable, as a rule. Still, somebodyappeared to have come. The dvornik came out towards them from thecastle. They hastily let down their kites; they must not be caught atsuch childish amusements. In the hurry the dragon caught in the witheredbough of a pine-tree and lost one eye.
"What a pity!" murmured Bethsaba, in vexation. "Now my dragon has onlygot one eye. Have you a scrap of paper about you to repair the damage?"
"Where should I get it from? Haven't you already seized upon everyvestige of paper to make your dragon with?"
"Do look! Perhaps you'll find some old bill or other."
Meanwhile the dvornik had come up to them.
"Well, Tanaschi, what is it?"
"A letter."
"To whom?"
Bethsaba seized the letter from the dvornik.
"Oh, oh! A woman's handwriting! Take it. A love-letter. Some formerflame writing to reproach you. Read it. Of course it is to make anappointment."
"You are right enough. It is a woman's handwriting, but addressed toyou, not to me, my dear."
"To me?" cried Bethsaba, in surprise. "Who can have written to me?Perhaps Zeneida?"
"No, it's not Zeneida. I know her handwriting."
"Perhaps too well. But who else could have written to me?"
And they began guessing who the writer could have been while the letterpassed from one to the other. At last Alexander proposed that the bestway to see who had written the letter would be to open it.
As they saw the signature both simultaneously cried, "My godmother!""Your godmother!"
"What can she have written about?"
Presently, as if it were intended for a joke, Bethsaba laughed heartilyover the letter.
"Ha, ha, ha! She wants me to go to the Masinka Fete! Alone! WithoutAlexander! 'It is to be a grand affair; the Czar and Czarina and severalforeign princes will be there; I shall have an opportunity to entreatthe Czar to grant Alexander permission to go back to St. Petersburg!'Ha, ha, ha! Did you hear that, Alexander Sergievitch? My godmother sendsme an invitation to a ball without you! The letter could not have comeat a more opportune moment--I just wanted it!"
And with these words she seized the precious epistle; it just coveredthe damage the dragon had sustained, and a couple of pins fixed it inplace--the black seal just forming the pupil of the eye. (The court hadgone into mourning for six weeks after Sophie's death, and society usedblack sealing-wax during the period.)
"A large case also arrived by post-chaise," said the dvornik.
"Put it on one side. I have no time now to look at it."
What more incomprehensible than that one of the fair sex should have notime to look at a ball-dress sent direct from the capital? The dragonwas mended, and ready now to resume its flight in the air.
Laughing and shouting, Bethsaba ran along with the tail of her kitedragging after her; the second child stood looking on, laughing, whilethe dragon disapprovingly waggled its foolish-looking head. Whilestarting a kite, the flyer has to run back with head turned upward.Bethsaba, therefore, was not aware that she was running directly againstsome one coming towards her from the English garden; and was startledto find herself suddenly embraced from behind, and a long kiss impressedupon her face. Then she gave a loud, joyous cry, and the next instanther arms were round the intruder's neck; and, not content with hangingupon that neck, she pulled its owner on to the grass, and, rolling over,kissed her enthusiastically, interposing the most endearing epithets:"You love!--you darling!--you precious!" Pushkin was fain to go to therescue, and help them both up again.
It needed no extraordinary acumen to guess who the guest, soaffectionately welcomed, could be.
"Do not quite strangle me, you little goose!" exclaimed Zeneida. "Look;your dragon has meanwhile flown away."
"Let it fly out into the wide world, and my godmother's letter with it.Do you know I have had a letter from my godmother? Do you know she hasinvited me to the Masinka Fete without Alexander? Do you know what I didwith her letter? My dragon had a slit, and I mended the slit with it.How dear and good of you to come and see us!"
"It is the correct thing. Six weeks after marriage it is thewedding-mother's duty to come and look after the young couple and seethat they are happy together--and if they really care for each other.Has your husband beaten you yet?"
"Oh, dreadfully," said Bethsaba, pretending to complain. "The last timeit was here!" And she secretly rubbed a place on her arm until she hadmade it red; but a redness, Zeneida detected, which had come from noblows.
"And you, Pushkin, have you been writing many fine verses?"
"Not a line! You know my muse is never active in fine weather. Itrequires storm, rain, and snow."
"And your sky has remained sunny?"
"As you see. I have not written a word."
This was very possible. There are times in his life when a poet onlyfeels poetry, does not write it.
"Why, we have not a sheet of paper in the house," said Bethsaba, whosewoman's instinct whispers to her it is her greatest boast when a poet'swife can say that it has been through her that the poet has beenfaithless to his muse. "We really have not. I had to use my godmother'sletter to make my dragon's eye."
"Indeed! Is that how you treat your correspondence? That is a good thingto know. I will never write to you then, but, when I have anything totell you, will rather come myself."
"That will be nice."
"Or I will take you with me."
To this the same response, "That will be nice," did not come. Clingingto Alexander's arm she looked up to him, saying:
"You will not let me go, will you?"
Zeneida answered for him:
"To that we shall not ask Alexander Sergievitch. His business it is whenhis little wife wants to go visiting to order out the carriage andhorses, and to take care of the house in her absence."
"But I could not go anywhere if I wished it. Do you not see how I amdressed? It is the Pleskow costume! Alexander tells me it was also thecostume of the first Russian Christian, Princess Olga. And I like it somuch. Admire this sarafan with its many buttons, the pearl-embroideredpovojnyik on my head, my red boots and striped silk stockings!" And withchildish _naivete_ she lifted up her dress to her knees. "How peoplewould stare if I were to appear among them in this costume! I have noother dress; this is what pleases my Alexander to see me in!"
She told the truth. The ball-dresses sent her were not her own propertyyet; she had not accepted the present.
Alexander drew his little nestling wife closer to him.
"We have become thorough peasant farmers."
"Heaven grant that you may remain so!" thought Zeneida to herself. "Ifear, however, that some day you will be leaving wife and village, andit will no longer be the pearl-embroidered cap upon your wife's head youwill then consider the greatest adornment, but the Phrygian cap you willbe running after!"
That which Dante omitted among the tortures of hell w
as that a womanshould be condemned to see the man she loves, who might have been hers,revelling in the love of another woman, and she his wife. Had Zeneida'slove been that of ordinary women, it would have mattered little to herthat the man, round whom her fetters had been cast, should, sooner orlater, be dragged by these very fetters to the grave. The joys of thepresent would have outweighed the tortures of the future, the dreadsecrets of eternity. But so dearly had she loved Pushkin that she soughtfor him a happiness in which she had no part. It was an unnaturalsituation, and one requiring a nobler courage than most possess. But isnot the woman who devotes herself to play a part in politics anunnatural, abnormal creation? Upon the altar of politics the heart isthe lamb of sacrifice. In the service of a Moloch sensual passion mayexist, but not love. Those who become political leaders have no longerfather or mother, brother or sister, lover or friend; they recognize nodifference between honesty and roguery, between the laws of God and theexpediencies of man. Hence the pursuit of politics is an unnaturaloccupation for women, with whom love and justice are ruling principles.The Amazon who went forth to war had first rooted out the gentlerfeelings.
The possibility of women taking up such a part is only comprehensible incountries where oppression is so unbearable, so utter, that the thirstfor freedom extends from the starved hearts of the men to those of thewomen. The poet-laureate might love the court prima donna, but not theplenipotentiary of the Szojusz Blagodenztoiga. Between those two lay"the green book"--a far more efficient obstacle than the green ocean.
But, all the same, the anchorites of St. George's Monastery had notcarried their self-torture to greater perfection than had this woman whohad forced herself to come as a guest to the house where she would bewitness to the happiness denied her, and which she had voluntarily givento another. And now she has come to guard that happiness against thestorms of the future. And she is not only witness to their happinesswhen they are together, but even when his farm-yard or stables tearPushkin for a short hour from Bethsaba's side, the young wife can talkof nothing but to boast of her happiness. No peacock is so proud ofspreading his tail as is a fond wife of telling of her happy lot. Shehas so many things to tell. Her husband is a perfect model of virtue andperfection! And to all this Zeneida must listen with utmost composure;to see, if the husband were absent over the expected half-hour, howuneasy and distraught the young wife grows; to read from her face: "Oh,you dear benefactress mine, my good fairy, my goddess, how gladly, wereyou not with me, would I run out to seek him!" And this, too, must shebear with a smile on her face! Oh, this Moloch!
"Listen, child: my sole object in coming was to steal you away fromAlexander Sergievitch for a time."
"Ah! If you want to steal either, take both of us. Alexander would notmind being run off with by you."
"Only, as it happens, he is neither invited, nor may he come. You mustaccept your godmother's invitation."
"What! The invitation to her ball!"
"There you will meet the Czar and Czarina; they will speak to you."
"I--there--without Alexander?"
"Upon you it depends that Pushkin may be free to go where you go. Yourmarriage with him has entirely marred his career. He does not feel itnow, but in the course of a year or two he will remember that formerlyevery step he took was accompanied by the clank of spurs. The soul of aman is not to be confined in a cage like a tame bird, especially when hehas eagle's wings. Be it your task to implore forgiveness from the Czarfor your husband, that Pushkin may proceed on his interrupted career.Now the meadows are still green; in another month they will be coveredwith snow, and the couple condemned to fireside and indoor life will notbe so light-hearted as the one flying their kites in the open meadow."
"Then it is your wish that I should intercede for Alexander's return toSt. Petersburg?"
"Not for all the world! No; a thousand times rather entreat the Czar togive him a mission that shall take you and him to your own people andcountry. Describe to the Czar and Czarina the land in which you wereborn, as it lives in your memory, with its genial climate, its aromaticwoods, its fruit-bearing trees. Tell them all the lovely and beautifulthings of it that your memory can recall, and entreat the Czar, as anact of mercy to yourself, to send your husband there."
"Oh, the tempting thought!" sighed Bethsaba.
"But he will never consent that I should leave him and go away, and staydays and weeks away from him."
"It would only be one week."
"But that is a century! Oh no! Alexander would never consent to it."
"You leave that to me; I will talk him over."
"Oh, if you succeed in that you will be a real fairy. But what an oddfairy! Had you wanted to carry off Alexander from me, I could haveunderstood it; but me from Alexander--that I cannot understand."
"See! here he comes through the garden. Place yourself here at thewindow and watch. I will go and meet him. You listen how I am going tobewitch him!"
"That I am curious to hear."
One intrenchment was already taken. Zeneida hastened to besiege thesecond.
Pushkin, crossing the lawn, was astonished to see Zeneida hurryingtowards him.
"Turn back, and let's have a little talk," said she, putting her hand onPushkin's arm. "Are you quite happy?"
"One can never be too happy."
"My object in coming is to ask you to spare me a portion of yourhappiness. I want to run away with your wife for a week."
"My little wife! What to do with her? Already she loves you ever so muchbetter than she does me."
"Do not fear. She loves you above everything in heaven and earth, andall that lies between them. She positively must accept the invitation toPrincess Ghedimin's ball."
The girl wife, watching at her window, sees how her husband vehementlydraws away his arm from Zeneida's retaining hand. Zeneida does notshrink; she takes possession of his arm again.
"Hot head! She will not be staying with the Princess, but with me; Iwill be her chaperon. Since I gave up the stage my house has becomestrictly proper; I have held no more frivolous gatherings; since theSzojusz Blagadenztoiga made its final decision I have had no moreconspirators coming near me; no need for masquerades or riotousmeetings; I live a quiet, secluded life. The Czar has sent me the Orderof the Cross as an amend for my recent dismissal; and, _noblesseoblige_, the bestarred Zeneida no longer consorts with Diabolkas. So,have you not the courage to trust your wife to me if I keep vigilantwatch over her?"
"But to what purpose? If you want to beg some favor of the Czar forme--you little know me!"
The woman at the window saw Pushkin fiercely slash off the heads of theasters at his feet.
"I know you perfectly well. You have made up your mind to stay on hereat Pleskow, see the grass grow, hunt hares, shoot wild duck, smoke thehouse out, play ombre, and discourse of dogs and horses. It will be yourambition to keep a good cellar, be known as a good dancer, tooccasionally slash an officer or two in duels, and to leave your papersand periodicals uncut. You would have just strength and energy for sucha life! But there are others interested in your wife's coming."
"Who?"
"First the Szojusz Blagadenztoiga; then the Czar."
"At my little Bethsaba's coming?"
"Do not interrupt me; I must speak quickly. You are aware that thissecond return of Araktseieff has made it impossible to stave offrebellion. His violent measures have had so imbittering an effect thatno one any longer attempts to defend the life of the Czar save I alone.Perhaps because I am a woman; yet there have been illustrious examplesenough to show that women can be as cruel in the matter ofblood-shedding as men, and even in a more cold and calculating fashion.Any outbreak initiated by Kubusoff's air-guns or Kakhowsky's infernalmachine, or, as Jakuskin has planned, by an opportune ball, giving thesignal for attack upon the entire imperial family, would have nobeneficial result. It would simply bring about the overthrow of theempire, the war of the knife and the axe _versus_ bayonet, the war ofrags _versus_ gold lace, inaugurating a reign of chaos whic
h would makethe country bless the return of despotism, and welcome a peace, eventhough accompanied by their old fetters. Now the Czar and Czarina mustnot be hurt! This reason, not sentiment, dictates.
"My plan is as follows: The Czarina's physician has advised her beingtaken to a milder climate. But her Majesty will not hear of leaving theRussian dominions, and the Caucasus she looks upon as a wilderness inwhich it is impossible to live. She gives no heed to the naturalists whodescribe the country, saying they are mere flattering officialreporters. But if a young, unsophisticated little bride, presentingherself to the imperial pair, were to petition as a special favor to beallowed to go back with her husband to her beautiful native land,describing this native land with enthusiasm of early and tenderrecollection, it is possible that though this request may be refused,yet the Czarina herself might be attracted to the idea of going to thatlovely land. The Czar worships his consort to such a degree that hewould accompany and stay with her there; with this result, that thosewho want to inaugurate the outbreak with the violent death of the Czarwould be constrained to devise some other nobler, more humane, morepolitic plan of action. On the Black Sea the Czar will live his lifewithout cares; here we should have the imperious favorite only to bringto judgment. The constitution would be proclaimed in St. Petersburgwithout blood-shedding; the army would declare in its favor; and CzarAlexander will be free to choose either to fulfil the universal wish ofhis people, and come back as their beloved monarch, or, if he prefer it,to embark on board a ship in the Black Sea and sail away to seek thehospitality of--say, the Sultan of Turkey, if he wish it. Anyway, hislife would be preserved."
The young wife at the window sees her husband kiss the hand of hisguest. He is won over already. Zeneida has succeeded in carrying off thewife from the husband.
"Those whom you love are loved indeed, even when they are tyrants!" saidPushkin, deeply moved.
"It is the holy cause, not the Czar, I wish to save!"
"Both! Come, I will trust my wife to you! Take her with you! Let her,with her lark's song, bid the storm to cease!"
Bethsaba standing at the window sees her husband and Zeneida comequickly back to her. "Truly you are an enchantress!" she thinks.
Pushkin comes in to his wife.
"Only think! your kite has been brought back from the far end of thetown! Here is your godmother's letter, as kind as can be. You must do asshe wishes. How could you refuse an invitation so worded, especially asZeneida undertakes to be your chaperon?"
Bethsaba looked at each in amazement, and then raised a threateningfinger and shook it at Zeneida.
"You are a fiend, after all, then. Well, then, come along, and let's seewhat kind of ball-dress my godmother has sent me."
This may be called a thorough capitulation.
The box was brought in and opened, the most exquisite of ball-dressesproduced, and, with Zeneida's aid, duly tried on. In it Bethsaba showedherself to her husband.
"Shall I look lovely? Shall I turn many men's heads?"
"Every one of them!"
"Oh, take care, take care! You must not embrace me; you will crush mylace!"
This is the way in which a man is deprived of his wife in the very midstof his honeymoon.