The Green Book Part 73

I will not have you leave me. Who knows, after all, if the angel be as white as she is painted?" she added, with a fascinating glance at the Chevalier. Zeneida had thus taught her. "You overlooked this move.

Checkmate!"

"By Jove! you have won!"

"Shall we begin another game?"

"The conqueror has the first move."

"Have you heard anything since of my poor, dear mother?"

"It is well that you have touched on the theme yourself. I a.s.sure you, had you not asked me I would not have started it. And yet it was princ.i.p.ally that which brought me here. The queen wishes to see you."

"Really? Since I was parted from her I have only seen her twice, in the Winter Palace, on New-year's day."

"Now you will be seeing your mother face to face. I have managed to obtain permission for you to visit the queen in her convent."

"Have you got it with you?"

"Do you want to show it to Alexander Sergievitch?"

"Oh no. It must be kept secret from him."

"Then leave the permit in my keeping. It is in very good hands. Pushkin dare not accompany you himself; it were an act of misdemeanor. As soon as you have opportunity to use it, you can obtain the permit from me."

"Yes. If Pushkin were leaving home for a few days."

"You send to me and I will forward it to you at once."

"But with this sending backward and forward two whole precious days will be lost. Would it not be better if I were to come and fetch it myself?"

Clever little woman!

"Were this happiness to fall to my lot I would set fire to all four corners of my castle instantly upon your departure, that, after you, no other guest should be received there."

"Checkmate! I led you on beautifully! I merely went on chattering to take your attention off the game. It was a thorough stalemate. And now you can retire to rest, Chevalier. Good-night!"

Bethsaba left the room. Chevalier Galban, however, rose from the chess-table with a full sense of triumph; he was convinced that he had won the game. As a rule he was accustomed to win two out of every three games he played. The third he usually lost.

The tarok-players had perceived nothing of what had pa.s.sed. It had been a fearful battle that had been fought at this table. Alexander Sergievitch had lost a "solo" with Quint Major, _tous les trois_. It was a thorough defeat.

"Two kings in my hand, and both taken--a hundred thousand devils!" swore Alexander Sergievitch.

"Yes, those kings," boasted the postmaster, proud of his achievement.

"We beat every one of those kings!"

"What!" began Chevalier Galban. "You beat kings? Upon my word! A thorough republican movement!"

The postmaster's interest in the game was so sensibly diminished by this speech that he proposed adjourning, and the exciting game came to an end.

Pushkin accompanied his guests to their sledges, then returned to Chevalier Galban.

"Well, how did your game go with my little one?"

"I was thoroughly thrashed. She played with me like a cat with a mouse.

From whom did she learn to play such a capital game?"

"What, chess? Our dear Sophie Narishkin was her teacher. They used to play together every day."

But that was not the case. It was not Sophie, but Zeneida, who had taught the "little one" this game. This time it had been the mouse playing with the cat to her heart's content.

CHAPTER XLIX

THE ANTIDOTE

Lovely, sunny December days followed on the past arctic weather, with its snow-storms. Chevalier Galban returned home, having received a promise from Pushkin to make him a return visit very soon. Post traffic was resumed; that is, communication by means of sledging was once more practicable.

The official newspaper outdid itself in dulness. But at the end of the so-called news of the day was an announcement to the effect that "_on December 26th Fraulein Ilmarinen would sing in the Imperial Exchange for the benefit of the Orphanage_!"

The concert was announced eight days in advance, in order that all who desired to attend should have due notice.

Pleskow to St. Petersburg is two good days' journey. Allowing for the time for post to reach, Pushkin had six days' notice.

Bethsaba, too, read the announcement, and said:

"Oh dear! How I should like to be there, to hear my dear Zeneida sing!"

Her heart was filled with dread. She, too, knew full well--Zeneida had told her--what this concert and this singing heralded.

From that moment Pushkin was utterly changed--morose, melancholy.

Bethsaba read in his face as in an open book. Had she not had the key to the hieroglyphics from Zeneida? She knew exactly what Pushkin was brooding over; she knew perfectly well that "Eleutheria" was the name of his old love. And she concentrated all her love upon him to hold him fast.

Was it such an unheard-of thing for men, renowned statesmen, to forget, in their domestic happiness, an appointment they had made with friend or enemy on the battle-field? How often it had happened that great men, when once they had learned to know "the little world of love," had been fain to think how good it was to be "little" men! What happy people Lilliputians must be!

Vain endeavor!

For two whole days Pushkin fought with himself; then told Bethsaba that he must leave home on December 24th.

Bethsaba never asked whither, nor for how long; she only said, "And you are not taking me with you?"

"No, love. It would be impossible for you to travel in this cold weather; the roads are so bad."

"But not too bad for you! Can you not put off this journey?"

"Impossible!" returned Pushkin, irritably.