As the door opened she perceived three well-known faces, those of Zeneida, Pushkin, her rescuer of the night before, and Jakuskin, the man at the helm of the boat. The two men were covered with mud; it was plain to see that they had just come in again from their work of mercy. "We were listening to you," said Zeneida. "Your audience were enchanted." "When I was travelling in the Caucasus," said Jakuskin, "I chanced to hear that very fable. The man with the green eyes is the allegorical symbol of Caucasian fever, so rife there. The meaning of it is, that whoever has received the incubation of that fever, whether he be wounded in battle, mangled by wild beasts, or swallowed up by the sea, will meet no other death than that prepared for him by the green-eyed spectre!" Bethsaba saw Pushkin standing before her. She gazed into those eyes in which to look out one's very soul must be so sweet, and held out her hand to him. "I have not yet thanked you for having saved my life. You came just in time. I could not have kept my seat an instant longer." "But how could the Duchess have allowed you to be there at all?" asked Pushkin, in tones of reproach. "I begged her to let me do it. I was so sorry for her, for she was so terrified, and even began to cry, a thing I could not stand. Do you know whether she reached home safely?" "She is perfectly well. I inquired. I assure you that my sole reason for going expressly to her palace to make inquiries was that I knew your first thought would be for her. There is nothing the matter with her. She went off at once last night in her boat to Peterhof, where she is in safety. She must have passed this very castle; but, of course, her only reason for not stopping to take you in was because she felt satisfied that you were in good keeping." And Bethsaba saw no irony in the words; for, in truth, she felt quite happy in the place where she had those eyes to look into. "And now I can give you nothing in return for having saved me, for I am so poor." "Like me," returned Pushkin. And Zeneida whispered in his ear: "Oh, the boundless riches that would come from the union of your poverty!" Bethsaba turned back to her washing apparatus. "Please let me go back to my work. Duty before everything!" "Blessed be the hands that perform it!" said Pushkin. And each word of his was music in Bethsaba's ears. "Now I know that I love him," thought she to herself. "I am fully convinced of that. But does he love me?" "We must now leave you," said Pushkin. "I only came to bring you news from Ghedimin Castle. We must be getting back. The flood is still rising; the whole of St. Petersburg is under water. There is no end of work for us to do; but we shall be coming backwards and forwards many times in the course of the day. I shall have many gifts to lay at your feet, dear Princess." Gifts! Did not her godmother tell her that the Russian youth brings gifts to his lady-love? So then--