‘Of your best? and what is that?’ said Ivan.
‘My heart, Tsar, my love, my duty and devotion—all that I have and am—myself.’
‘Good! But you would be afraid of me, like this other.’
‘I swear I would not, Tsar.’
‘Well, see here, Praskovia Soltikof: ask this Vera whether she cannot change her mind towards me, and if she cannot or will not, I know not but what I will choose thee, since my sister will have me married whether I desire it or no.’
Praskovia’s face underwent several changes during this speech: the expression which remained the last upon it was one of triumphant happiness.
‘Oh! Tsar,’ she said, most intensely; ‘I am not worthy!’ But Ivan passed on and said no more, and when he had gone out of sight and hearing a storm arose.
For Olga Panief, whose temper was never of the best, flew out and called upon Vera to speak up and save the Tsar and the nation from having this Praskovia Soltikof for Tsaritsa.
‘She is a toady and a liar,’ cried Olga. ‘Did you see her blush and cast down her eyes when he spoke to her? Did you hear her vow she would love him and honour him, and I know not what besides? Faugh—it sickens me to hear her! Speak, Vera Kurbatof, and save us all from her: it is you the Tsar would have, all the world knows that; it is you he loves, not this toadying, fawning thing!’
‘Listen to her!’ laughed Praskovia. ‘Poor Olga, all her arts have failed, therefore she cannot tolerate those of others! Liar, am I? What of you, you hypocrite, who are ready to vow devotion to the Tsar if he would but look at you—why, you have owned as much!—and yet in the next breath you declared that if you should be chosen you would marry the sceptre, not the man; and that if you had a lover before, your marriage should make no difference, for he should be lover still!’