The dead girl might well be content. All had been done as she had directed; Bethsaba wore the pink silk wedding-dress; the platinum diadem adorned her brow. "That is over," said Zeneida. "Now follows the other--quick, quick!" Bethsaba must now change the pink wedding-dress for a black one for the consecration of the dead. Zeneida helped her to dress; Pushkin waited without. Bethsaba wept on and on, whether clad in pink or black. Zeneida betrayed no tendency that day to sentimentality. Her utter callousness bordered on cynicism. "But we shall see Sophie again in the next world, shall we not?" sobbed Bethsaba. "Yes, yes," muttered Zeneida. "And to which of you will Pushkin belong then?" That was the question. Bethsaba was startled. Her large eyes remained fixed on Zeneida. "And suppose he should belong to neither of you?" continued Zeneida, drawing her strongly marked eyebrows together. "Or do you imagine that in the hereafter there will still be a greater Russia crushing a lesser Finland beneath its heel, so that even then a fool will be found to open the gate of Paradise for some one else, while she herself goes into perdition!" This outburst revealed Zeneida's secret to Bethsaba. Rigid with dismay, she stammered out: "You, too, loved him?" "Do not ask. Rejoice that he is yours, and do not wish yourself in the next world with him, but do your utmost to keep him to you in this." "And you, too, loved him?" repeated Bethsaba, sorrowfully. "As you have discovered it, make your discovery of some use," said Zeneida, with seeming affectation. "Now, at least, you know from whom you have to guard him. Take care to keep him away from me. Now you know the sort of person I am. I take pleasure in enticing away the husbands and causing the wives bitter tears. Your godmother was right. _I am a very devil._ Do not bring your Aleko back to St. Petersburg." Bethsaba, throwing herself on Zeneida's bosom, embraced her. "It is not true--not true--not true! You cannot deceive me. Tell me why you gave me Pushkin's heart, when you might so easily have kept it for yourself? There must be some weighty reason that induced you to do it. Tell it me; he is my husband now. I must know all about him. Even if it be--that he loves me not." Zeneida, now looking down with gentle smile on the young bride in her mourning-dress, took her in her arms, and in fond embrace drew her to her heart.