Alexander commanded Pushkin to his presence that day, and made short work of the matter.
"You have caused a young girl to fall in love with you. You must marry her. Her name is Sophie Narishkin. Wait upon me to-morrow evening at six o'clock. I will take you to her, that you may formally ask her hand. You will then visit her daily, and see that you endeavor to cause her no sorrow. Her life hangs on the slightest thread; that thread is in your hands. Beware that you are not the cause of her death."
Pushkin was in a very awkward situation.
The hand of the Czar's favorite daughter was offered him—to him, the conspirator, the Constitutionalist, the sworn enemy of the tyrannical Czar. He was to ask a girl in marriage who was in love with him, whom he pitied and admired but did not love. That girl's life hung on the hope of becoming his wife; with the extinction of that hope the feeble spark of life within her would be extinguished. Merely to breathe "I do not love you" would suffice to kill her. And what made his position the more difficult was the circumstance that at Sophie's he would be constantly meeting that other girl whom he looked upon as his betrothed, Sophie's only friend, Bethsaba, to whom he had given his whole soul. Two hearts to be thus stricken and betrayed!
What bitter punishment for past frivolity brought back upon his own head! But there was no turning back. We are in Russia, and when the Czar commands there is no option but to obey.
The next day Alexander himself took Pushkin to Sophie. The betrothal took place in his presence. Pushkin was able to convince himself that the heart intrusted to him was a treasure far above the merits of any sublunary being. He learned that there can be an ideal bliss infinitely more sublime than any earthly enjoyment utterly without sensual passion—a magic of sympathy which is not dependent upon the power of possession; that spiritual attraction is stronger even than love. It was to him as though one of those angelic souls already floating heavenward were drawing him thither in its train.
A few weeks later Sir James Wylie said to the Czar:
"Princess Sophie's health is improving visibly."
"I have found the panacea!" was the reply.