And, drawing her cashmere close about her (the mornings are misty by the river) and replacing her bonnet, she left the villa.
Knowing that her farewell kiss would be of no benefit to the poor swooning girl, she let it alone.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE WILL
That day Pushkin felt as heavy-hearted as if he had not only all the sins of the world, but the national debts of all Europe, upon his shoulders. Was it one of those presentiments to which the race of poets, whose stock-in-trade is nerves, are so sensitive? Nothing gave him any pleasure. He went to Zeneida, to formally announce his approaching marriage to her. She had long been informed of it, for she possessed a splendid service of secret police.
Zeneida replied, with cold, stoical irony:
"I still do not believe that the Czar's daughter will marry you."
"Probably not; for I intend to marry the Czar's daughter!"
"Is Princess Ghedimin informed of it?"
"I have announced it to her."
"Then nothing will come of it."