The Green Book; Or, Freedom Under the Snow: A NovelJókai, Mór
History
The Green Book; Or, Freedom Under the Snow: A Novel
Jókai, Mór
Russia -- History -- December Uprising, 1825 -- Fiction
Zeneida stands by the door to receive the new-comers, until the room
fills up. Conversation is not loud; each seems to be conferring with the
spirit which has led him hither.
The rolling of the roulette ball is heard yet again.
"Who can still be coming?" asks Zeneida.
Pushkin appears on the threshold.
Zeneida's countenance involuntarily assumes an expression of alarm.
"Why do you come here?" she whispers, excitedly, to him.
"Is it not permitted?"
"Did I not commission you to watch Galban, that he might not take us by
surprise?"
"I found a better guardian for him. Diabolka has got him in the
mouse-trap."
"But your responsibility remains."
"I will go back as soon as I can do so without exciting attention. At
present, I stay here. Introduce me!"
"What a child you are! Are you not consumed with curiosity to know what
we are about here?"
"I wish to take my part in it."
"What wilfulness! Of course you imagine lives are going to be risked,
and must needs stake yours for sake of the glory. Well, stay here. You
shall see. Herr Pushkin!" And she turned her back upon him, as if in
anger, while making the introduction.
Zeneida was the accredited agent of the whole union. Whom she invited to
her palace was received as a "Brother"; to whom she confided any work
was ranked among the "Men"; but to take part in secret conferences and
to be promoted to be a "Bojar" required a further recommendation.
"Who else stands security for him?" asked Prince Ghedimin.
"I," answered Ryleieff.
Upon which room was at once made for Pushkin at the table.
His was a fine head. The curly hair and form of the nose recalled the
African blood which ran in his veins, one of his forefathers having
taken to wife a daughter of Hannibal, the negro slave promoted by Peter
the Great to be a general. His eyes were dark and deep-set, yet, despite
the irregular features, one could trace in the expression a resemblance
to Byron. Pushkin was in love with Zeneida--that is, he raved about her.
Zeneida was deeply in love with Pushkin, therefore she did not want him
really to love her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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