asking, 'But who is this Sophie Narishkin? Who is her father--who is her mother?" "You may make yourself at ease on that score, Princess. The wedding will be conducted in all privacy by the Patriarch of Solowetshk in the Chapel of Peter the Great on Petrovsky Island. After the wedding not a soul will see the young couple in St. Petersburg, or speak about them." This consolation was poison to the heart of the Princess. Would she see Pushkin no more, then? "But why this feverish haste? The girl is but a child, scarce sixteen years old!" "Princess," returned Pushkin, mournfully, "we do not reckon time by years, but by the griefs we endure; and by that computation Sophie has already lived a long life. Sixteen years of confinement, banishment, unrecognized by any one--sixteen years without knowing a loving word or ray of brightness should count for age enough! It is just this dream of happiness that is keeping the poor child in life. Sophie is a somnambulist on this earth. To awaken would be to kill her!" "So it is a spirit of magnanimous self-sacrifice which binds you to her--you are not in love with her?" "I worship her; am hers forever." "I see. Permit me to meditate over the subject. This news has taken me so by surprise that I can give you no answer at present. Can this marriage not be delayed?" "No." "Why not?" "The Czar is going on a journey--it may be a long--very long journey. He will shortly hold a great review of the guards, and then start. But of this Prince Ghedimin can inform you better than I. At any rate, it is the Czar's pleasure that our marriage takes place before he leaves." "Then at least allow me to defer my answer to the last moment. I have so much to say to you; do give me as long a time as you can. Come again on the twentieth, and even then not until dusk, so that your coming may not attract attention. In order to enter unperceived--you will readily understand why I should not wish a visit from Sophie's bridegroom, on the very eve of his wedding-day, to be publicly known--take this key. It belongs to the door of the veranda which opens on to the park. Thence, by a spiral staircase, you ascend direct to my apartments. We can then talk over various matters undisturbed, which you ought to know." Pushkin put the key intrusted to him in his pocket, and, kissing the Princess's hand, took leave, Korynthia giving him the farewell kiss on his lips and accompanying him to the door of her room. From this we glean that the Russian scientist was right in his remarks upon "degenerated cats"--at least, as far as this woman is concerned. CHAPTER XXX A MOTHER'S BLESSING