“This was not long ago; Oh, far from long ago. Do you know who first recognized that I was born, and told it to others? It was Rousseau, in his Nouvelle Eloïse. From it, from him, people for the first time heard of me.
“Since then my kingdom has been spreading. But I am not yet tsaritsa over many. But it spreads rapidly, and you can foresee the time when I shall reign over all the earth. Only then people will perfectly appreciate how beautiful I am. Now, those who acknowledge my power, are not yet able to obey my will. They are girt about by a throng opposed to all my will. The throng would tear them in pieces, would poison their lives, if they confessed and fulfilled my will. And I must have happiness; I desire that there should be no suffering, and I tell them, ‘Don’t do that which will bring torment upon you; fulfil my will only so far as it will not cause yourselves harm.’ ”
“But can I know thee perfectly?”
“Yes, thou canst. Thy position is very fortunate. Thou hast naught to fear. Thou canst do whatsoe’er thou pleasest; and if thou wishest to know all my will, from my will no harm will come to thee: thou must not desire, and thou wilt not desire, anything on account of which ignorant people may torment thee. Thou art now perfectly content with what thou hast. Thou dost not desire, and thou wilt not desire, anything or anybody else. I can declare myself to thee entirely.”
“Reveal to me thy name; thou hast told me the names of the former tsaritsas, but thy own name thou hast never declared to me.”
“Dost thou want me to tell thee my name? Look at me, hearken to me.”
V
“Look at me, hearken to me! Dost thou recognize my voice? Dost thou know my face? Hast thou ever seen my face?”
No; she had never seen her face, had ne’er seen it in her life. Yet how did it seem to her as though she had seen it? It is a year since she was speaking with him, since he looked upon her, kissed her, and now she sees her so often, this radiant beauty; and the radiant one does not hide from her, neither does she hide from him; she appears to her in all her radiant beauty.
“No, I have never seen thee; I have never seen thy face: thou didst appear to me; I saw thee; but thou wert girt with brightness. I could not see thee; I only saw that thou wert more beautiful than all. Thy voice, I hear it, but I hear only that thy voice is more beautiful than all.”
“Look; for thy sake at this moment, I shall diminish the brightness of my aureole, and my voice shall sound for thee at this moment without the enchanting power which I always lend to it; for one moment I cease to be a tsaritsa. Hast thou seen? hast thou heard? hast thou learned? That will suffice; again am I tsaritsa, and tsaritsa I shall be for all time to come.”
She was again girt about with the ineffable brightness of her halo, and again her voice is inexpressibly intoxicating. But for that moment when she ceased to be the tsaritsa, so as to declare herself unto thee, was it really so? Did Viéra Pavlovna really see this countenance? really hear this voice?
“Yes,” says the tsarita, “thou hast wanted to know who I am; now thou knowest. Thou hast wanted to hear my name; I have no name different from the one to whom I appear; my name is her name. Thou hast seen who I am. No, there is nothing loftier than man; there is nothing loftier than woman. I am the one to whom I appear, who loves and is loved.”
Yes, Viéra Pavlovna saw. It was herself; it was herself, but a goddess. The goddess’ countenance is her own countenance, her living countenance, the features of which are so far from perfection; every day she sees more than one face more beautiful than hers. This was her own face, kindled with the brightness of love; more beautiful than all ideals left to us by sculptors of the ancient time, and by the great artists of the great age of art. Yes, it is she herself, but kindled by the brightness of life; it is she, more beautiful than whom are hundreds of faces in Petersburg, which is so poor in beauty. She is more beautiful than the Aphrodite of the Louvre, more beautiful than all the beauties of the past.
“Thou seest thyself in the mirror just as thou art without me. In me thou seest thyself just as the one who loves thee, sees thee. For his sake thou and I art one; for him there is no one more beautiful than thou; for him all ideals grow obscure in thy presence. Is it not so?”
“Yes! oh, yes!”
VI
“Now, thou knowest who I am; know what I am. I have all the enjoyment of sense which Astarte had; she is the original mother97 of all of the rest of us tsaritsas who succeeded her. I have the rapture at the sight of beauty no less than Aphrodite had; I have the reverence for purity which ‘Chastity’ possessed.
“But in me it is not as it was in them, but fuller, loftier, keener. The virtue possessed by ‘Chastity’ is combined in me with the quality which distinguished Astarte and that which distinguished Aphrodite. And while I combine in me these other powers, each of
