‘It is true, Tsar,’ said Vera; ‘I fear thee.’
‘And why?’
‘God knows! I shall always fear thee, and I can never love thee; believe that I am speaking truth.’
‘I do believe——’ began the Tsar; but Sophia interrupted him.
‘See, Vera,’ she said, ‘it is possible that in knowing the Tsar better and seeing him oftener, this feeling of thine may change for a gentler one. He is kind of heart, believe me, and will make a more indulgent husband than many a man to whom God has given better health and a handsomer face. Ivan loves you the best of all—can you not see it? Come, smile upon him, child, and give him thy hand, and by all the saints of Heaven thou shalt be Tsaritsa in a month, and as fair and as happy a one as ever sat beside a Tsar upon the highest seat.’
‘Madam, do not entreat me,’ said poor Vera. ‘It is the truth that I am afraid of the Tsar; I could not sit beside him. If I were not afraid to death of him I should not have hid myself from him. Do not press me—Tsar, on my knee, I beseech thee. I should be a sorry Tsaritsa that feared the touch and the very sight of thee. Let me go my way; there are those here who long for thee to exalt them to thy side.’
‘Bah!’ said the Regent, tugging at his arm; ‘leave her then, Golúbchick, if she insists upon being a fool. If she truly fears thee she will hate thee if we marry thee to her; let her go, fool and minx that she is.’
The Tsar obeyed. He followed his sister, though he turned and gazed at Vera once more as he went.
Then they came to where Praskovia Soltikof stood and waited for them, all blushes, and her splendid eyes ablaze as they sent a speaking glance at the Tsar before screening themselves beneath her marvellous black lashes, long and arched, and lying now upon her cheeks like two lovely fringes of delicate feathered lacework.
Ivan stopped suddenly as his eyes fell upon this picture. He half turned towards Vera as though he would compare the two; but the figure of Praskovia seemed to have captured his gaze, and his eyes remained fixed upon her.