"That is what I did say. But then he sighed so deeply: 'Oh, if you will only tell me one day Alexander Sergievitch is going from home to-morrow!' I should so have liked to give him a box on the ears for saying it!" "But, instead of doing that, with naïve, unconscious expression you asked, 'What good would that be? You surely would not be coming to see me when my husband was not at home? All the world would know of it.' To which he made reply, 'You are right. But you could come to my castle.'" "How _do_ you know that?" "From what you have told me and from what I saw. It was then that you felt inclined to cry." "He said still more. 'You would have an excellent excuse to leave home while Alexander Sergievitch is away. Your mother, the Queen of Circassia, is in St. Ann's Convent in Novgorod. You would only have to say, "I am going to my mother, who has not seen me since I was a child, to tell her of my marriage, and ask her blessing upon it."' So even my poor mother he dragged into this infamy!" "And upon that, leaving him, you took refuge with your godmother?" "Did you notice that, too?" "In doing so you had gone to the right place, and could tell all your troubles to sympathetic ears." "Oh, if only you had heard what she did say!" "I saw." "How saw?" "By your face. Every word of hers was reflected on your face. Did she not say, 'Poor Galban! If only you knew how much he has suffered on your account! He has actually been on the point of making away with himself. Then he wanted to bury himself in the catacombs of Solowetshk. It would but be giving a copper to a starving man out of your wealth. It should be kept secret; no one should know. It is the way all we women act; there is not a single exception among us. Besides, it is only paying back in the same coin. Every one of us is deceived by our husbands; you and I, and all of us. At the moment that Galban made his confession to you, you may take it for granted that Pushkin was vowing his love to some other woman, who would not be so scrupulous as you.'" "So he really did say; and yet more. This man--whose name my lips can never more utter--is capable, for sake of me, of exiling himself from St. Petersburg, of renouncing his brilliant position, merely that he may live near me! He is capable, in his despair, of killing Alexander, me, himself, if I torture him longer. Oh, how he has terrified me! As soon as I get home I will tell it all to Alexander, and, taking his hand in mine, will implore him to run away to the other end of the earth with me." "By so doing you would attain just the contrary to what you desire. Just this: that Pushkin would be aroused, and, not having been conceded permission to return to St. Petersburg, would challenge Galban to go to him, and their duel would end fatally. Do not be afraid of him! Fight him yourself!" "I? I fight him? Galban? I, a weak, foolish, cowardly little creature, who tremble at every word he utters?"