The Green Book Part 25

"Bethsaba! What a capital idea! Don't let me forget it. I will propose it to him as soon as ever he is in better spirits. Just now he is so depressed. After he had said good-bye he came back to me again. 'I forgot to ask how you were?' 'That proves,' said I, 'that I must be looking well.' Looking anxiously at me, he asked if my face was always as red as then; and I, laughing, said 'Yes. But why are you so anxious?

Does not the good G.o.d know how you love me; and are you not the anointed, the chosen one of Him to whom you pray for my recovery to health?' 'Yes, He knows,' he answered, gloomily, 'that I love you. But was not King David also His anointed, chosen servant? And did not the king sing all night through his despairing, penitential Psalm, and yet his child was taken from him, in punishment of his sin with Bathsheba?'"

"Who was that Bathsheba?" broke in the king's daughter. "It can only be another form for Bethsaba. Was there really any one who bore that name before me? I have hitherto searched in vain to find a namesake in society or in the Calendar. Never have I been able to find one. My G.o.dmother, d.u.c.h.ess Korynthia, who named me so at my christening--up to my sixth year I was a heathen--in answer to my question why I could not find it in any Calendar, told me it was another name for Elizabeth, and that St. Elizabeth's day was my name-day; and they give me presents on that day. And now the Czar has told you that there really was a Bathsheba. Who was she?"

"I do not know any more than you. I have never been taught anything about her, although I am curious to know. I asked old Helena, and got from her that Bathsheba was St. David's wife; but that was all she knew, for only the priests are allowed to read the Bible. On that account it is written in Bulgarian."

"But why, then, should she not be among the saints in the Calendar?"

"Of course, because she was a Jewess!"

"But he said she had sinned. Oh, why did my G.o.dmother give me the name of a sinful woman?" And Bethsaba was ready to cry.

"Bethsaba, dear," said Sophie, "please don't tell anybody what I have told you about the Czar's tour and the triumphal arch."

"But if my G.o.dmother asks what we have been talking about?"

"Tell her something else."

"What else?"

"Make up a fib."

"A fib! How does one do that? I have never done it."

Sophie Narishkin laughed in great amus.e.m.e.nt. She had learned to lie and fib as quite a little child. Instead of "mamma" she had had to say "madam"; and if her father brought her bonbons to tell people that "Nicolo" (_la mere Cicogne_) had brought them.

What old Helena told her she dared not repeat to "madam"; what she heard when with "madam" she must not breathe a word of to old Helena; what either said must not be repeated to the Czar; and what the Czar told her must be kept from every one. So she had been so inured to lying that she had once brought her doctor to the verge of despair when, on his trying to find out her symptoms, her prevarications made a diagnosis next to impossible. How the poor child had rejoiced when at last she found two beings to whom she might really open her heart, her father and her friend!

"So you always tell every one all you know?" she asked Bethsaba.

"Oh no; although I do not understand the art of lying, if any one thinks to pump me, or to catch me unawares, I have my own way of being even with him. I begin to ask so many questions that he or she is only glad enough to leave me in peace."

At which they both laughed. The music of fresh young laughter was rarely heard in that cage.

CHAPTER XVII

BETHSABA

Princess Ghedimin had accorded her royal G.o.d-daughter permission to visit her friend, Sophie Narishkin, frequently. To one but partially acquainted with the Princess's secret heart, such intimacy was easily explained. As appearances forbade her personally from visiting the child, at least through Bethsaba she could obtain news of her health.

But to one in possession of the whole truth there was yet another cogent reason.

The Czar, that reserved, laconic man, who had secrets from his ministers, and did not even confess to the priests, was in the habit of telling this favorite daughter everything. When an ordinary father confides things to an idolized daughter they are matters of feeling; if that father be the Czar, what he confides are matters of state.

Every word the Czar utters to Sophie Narishkin must necessarily concern the condition of the country. Alexander I.'s words form the basis of Europe's present and future relations. The softening or hardening of his heart betokens peace or war. In that heart of his rest the mysteries of great developments or upsettings of nations.

And Sophie has no secrets from her bosom friend, Bethsaba.

"Well, dear child, how did you find your little friend to-day?" asked the Princess, on Bethsaba's return.

"She is taking her medicine more regularly; and, I think, it is doing her good; for I tasted one of her powders one day, and it was very nasty and bitter."

"Was she not talking a great deal again? Talking is bad for convalescents."

"She told me that she had had a visit from her G.o.dfather."

Bethsaba had so far learned to "fib" that she said "G.o.dfather" instead of "father."

"Did he stay long with her?"

"I do not know."

"Did he tell her anything of interest?"

"Oh yes; about King David and his wife Bathsheba. Do tell me, what was Bathsheba's fault?"

"Bathsheba's fault! What makes you ask me such a question?"

"Because _he_ spoke about it; and I want to know what it was. Why is no one called after her? And if she was so wicked, I don't want to bear her name either. Give me some other."

"Quiet, silly child! She did nothing wrong."

"But Sophie's G.o.dfather told her that she had committed sin with King David."

"It was love, and no sin."

"Love! What is that?"

Maria Alexievna Korynthia laughed aloud.

"Now, am I to tell you what is love? You will know soon enough, child, when you fall in love yourself."

"How shall I do that? Is love an evil which attacks people like an illness, or is it a good thing for which people long?"

Maria Alexievna Korynthia laughed still louder.

"Both together!"

"How does it begin?"

"When a young man looks deep into your eyes."

"Into my eyes? I could not endure that; I should die outright."