Sophie, meanwhile, set about restoring her friend to consciousness, and, unfastening her bodice, sprinkled her face with water. Dying, she still thought of others. At length Bethsaba began to revive; but as she opened her eyes she buried her face in the cushions. "I have arranged everything with Aleko," said the dying girl, in a low, contented voice. "You have only to do exactly what he tells you. I leave you my pink dress and the platinum diadem. You will soon know when you are to wear them. Why, Pushkin, how can you be so useless? Why have you not written it all down in my will? Now, do not forget the pink wedding-dress and platinum diadem. Old Helenka, too, I bequeath to you; she has always been a good, faithful nurse to me. You may trust her through thick and thin. Now, Aleko, give Bethsaba pen and paper. She must write to tell the Princess not to expect her, as she is not coming back at present. Now write, dear one: 'Your Highness, my honored godmother,--Sophie is ill and in sore need of my care. I must stay here until the Lord take pity upon her. Your godchild, Bethsaba.' Now, dear Aleko, send off this note to the Princess, that she may not be uneasy. And as soon as you are ready give me my will, that I may sign it." Sophie read it through. "How many blots there are!" she whispered, and a smile lit up her death-like face. Those blots were Pushkin's tears. Sophie made merry over them, and wanted Aleko and Bethsaba to join in her merriment. She wrote her name in large, clear handwriting, and gave back the pen to Pushkin. Then she put both her arms round his neck and drew him down to her. "To-day you still belong to me! Let me look once more into those eyes which have been so long a sweet home to me! Oh, it was a Paradise on earth! I thank you that you let me know such exquisite happiness! I thank you for the truth and tender love with which you blessed me!" And she kissed him countless times. Then, letting her arms sink, she motioned him away. It was the last caress. "Aleko! Bethsaba! I want to see you embrace each other--now at once, while I am still alive and can see it! If you love me, if you would have me know you to be sincere, if you place any value on my blessing, embrace each other." And so across the dying girl's bed they laid their arms on each other's shoulders. "Ah, that is right! And now, kiss each other--on the lips. Not like that; you have hardly touched each other; it was such a cold kiss. Give her a real one!" And, laying her hands on the bowed heads, she drew them together, until their lips united in a kiss, her hands resting the while as if in the act of blessing. Then, raising her transfigured face to heaven, and, folding her hands, she breathed, scarce audibly: "Mother, I have saved you from sin!" CHAPTER XXXII NOT ONLY A BULLET STRIKES HOME The Czar was holding an extraordinary review.