For two whole days Pushkin fought with himself; then told Bethsaba that he must leave home on December 24th.
Bethsaba never asked whither, nor for how long; she only said, "And you are not taking me with you?"
"No, love. It would be impossible for you to travel in this cold weather; the roads are so bad."
"But not too bad for you! Can you not put off this journey?"
"Impossible!" returned Pushkin, irritably.
The tone in which he spoke forbade further question. Bethsaba saw that the hour of the dreaded danger had come. The poison was already working in his veins. An antidote must be administered.
Going to her room, she wrote to Chevalier Galban:
"Alexander Sergievitch is making preparations for a journey very shortly. I await your answer."
This significant letter she gave to a footman, with instructions to convey it to its address as fast as a sledge would take him.
After their conversation, Pushkin, seeing that his moroseness betrayed him, forced himself to be in high spirits. His friends said they had never seen him so merry. Bethsaba alone was not deceived.