Three days longer the two girls spent under Zeneida's protecting care--that is, it was not until then that Princess Ghedimin ventured to return from Peterhof, or that the slime-covered ground-floor and cellars of the little dwelling in Petrovsky Garden could be cleansed and thoroughly aired by old Helenka. The girls meanwhile were living Elysian days. When Zeneida told them that they could now go to their homes, Bethsaba sighed: "When I came here I thought I was coming to the infernal regions; now I feel as if I were being turned out of Paradise!" They saw Pushkin daily, had talks with him, and delighted in the great, noble soul which lay like an open book before them. Even earthly joys have their revelations, awaking super-earthly joy when they cease to be felt in secret. When the girls were alone Aleko was the sole subject of their talk. Bethsaba thought she must love Sophie the more for holding Aleko in such high esteem; yet she had not, even yet, breathed a word to her friend of her love for him. At first, she had thought, it would be an easy thing to tell. But the secret of a first love is refractory; it will not come forth from its concealment. She delayed her confession; guarding her secret like some hidden treasure; dissembled her love for him, or, at least, learned to belie her feelings that she might not betray the happiness that took possession of her at sight of him. Her blushes she ascribed to headache, though, in reality, her head was innocent of any such discomfort. But at the moment of parting the confession must be made. She would whisper it to her friend in few words, then run away. When their sedan-chairs actually arrived--no carriages could yet be used--the two friends could scarce make up their minds to part. They had ever fresh confidences to whisper to each other; they wept and laughed, and quarrelled for the sake of making it up again. They talked together in a language which they two only understood; they promised to meet again very soon; they gave each other the parting kiss, then began to chatter again. Zeneida watched them attentively. At length the declaration must come. With the last, very last, kiss the bomb must burst. "I love Aleko--until death." This Sophie whispered into Bethsaba's ear, then ran away. Zeneida saw the rosy glow suffusing the cheeks of the departing girl and the deathly pallor overspreading those of her who remained, as though the one had stolen the life-glow from the other. Bethsaba stood where she had left her, white, motionless, with sunken head, and arms hanging lifeless at her side. Zeneida at once divined the secret. She went up to her, but hardly had she taken the girl's hands in hers when, falling before her, bitterly weeping, the poor child hid her face in Zeneida's dress. "Oh, why did you bring me here?" Zeneida raised her. "Stand up. Do not cry. He will be yours." "What! I take him from her?"