The dead of the Northern Union did not even receive a memorial such as that. From the beginning of the fight they were hustled under the ice of the Neva, and the Neva retains its coating of ice for five whole months. Jakuskin was taken prisoner; but in his prison he dashed his brains out against the stone walls of his cell.
Pushkin was miraculously saved. The hearts of two women accomplished the miracle—two women who united so perfectly in their love for him that to both, equally, he owed his life.
The digression he had made in going first to Galban's delayed his arrival on time at St. Petersburg on the eventful day. Before he had even reached Czarskoje Zelo his horses had broken down under the strain of the long journey, on the road he met Battenkoff, fleeing from the St. Petersburg slaughter, and learned from him that all was lost, that Prince Ghedimin was exiled to Siberia, whither Zeneida was voluntarily accompanying him.
Pushkin was free to turn back to his wife. There was no longer an Eleutheria. She was dead and buried.
There was no one to accuse him of having belonged to the League of the Partisans of Freedom. His name had been inscribed among that ten thousand whom the "demoniacal" whim of an actress had saved from the scaffold and from banishment to Siberia.
After that came enough of the hard times beloved by Pushkin's muse.
And, that he might belong entirely to his muse, Bethsaba, too, forsook him.
She went—to rejoin Sophie. She could no longer endure this cold prison-world of ours. And Pushkin then remained alone in his desolate castle, with no other confidante than old Helenka. To her he read his verses.
In the spring of the following year he received a command from Czar Nicholas to present himself at St. Petersburg.
His imprisoned friends at that time were to be executed.