"For what?"
"In order to avert further misfortune from the city."
"My dear little Princess!" exclaimed Zeneida, "the wind which sends the Neva over St. Petersburg is called Auster, and were the whole twelve hundred millions of people who inhabit the earth to blow together it would not avail to blow back the Auster!"
This was a speech worthy of its maker. To liken the efficacy of prayer to a blowing of breath! Bethsaba now plunged into the extreme of audacity. She would name the Deity, and surely then the devil, amid sulphur and brimstone, would strip himself of his seductive exterior and appear in his conventional form of horns and goat's feet.
"So you do not believe that God has sent this awful calamity upon mankind?"
"No, dear child. For were it God who had sent this visitation upon the earth the flood would have destroyed the houses of the wicked and not those of the honest, hard-working people."
Bethsaba thought, "You must be he, or you would never have dared to utter such blasphemy." She went further; she wanted to catch the Evil One in his own net.
"You have too much to do; may I not help you? If you would let me, I would wash and dress the children, too. I should like to do it; it is so amusing."
"Yes, indeed," said Zeneida, merrily. "Why not? It will give you something to do; and I, by-the-way, must go and see that we have enough to eat for all our multitude. I leave you in charge of the nursery."
So saying she gave up her seat to Bethsaba, and, bidding the many unwashed little folk to be good, left the bath-room with a smile. Bethsaba's first care was to make the children all kneel down. Then, kneeling in their midst, she said the Lord's Prayer with them—"Deliver us from the Evil One. Amen."