His Hour Part 13

"You see, Maman, we defy you!" the Prince said, when he could speak.

The little boy now joined his sister, and both soon shrieked with laughter over some impossible tale which was being poured into their ears; and Princess Sonia said softly to Tamara:

"He is too wonderful with children--Gritzko--when he happens to like them--isn't he, Olga? All of ours simply adore him, and I can never tell you of his goodness and gentleness to Marie last year when she had her dreadful accident. The poor little one will be well some day, we hope, and so I do not allow myself to be sad about it; but it was a terrible grief."

Tamara looked her sympathy, while she murmured a few words. Princess Sonia was such a sweet and charming lady.

More visitors now came in, and they all drank their coffee and tea, but the Prince paid no attention to any one beyond casual greetings; he continued his absorbing conversation with his small friends.

Tamara was surprised at this new side of him. It touched her. And he was such a gloriously good-looking picture as he sat there in his scarlet coat, while Marie played with the silver cartridges across his breast, and Peter with his dagger.

When she and Countess Olga left to catch an early afternoon train he came too. He had to be back in Petersburg, he said. Nothing could look more desolate than the tracts of country seen from the train windows, so near the capital and yet wild, uncultivated s.p.a.ces, part almost like a marsh. There seemed to be nothing living but the lonely soldiers who guarded the Royal line a hundred yards or so off. It depressed Tamara as she gazed out, and she unconsciously sighed, while a sad look came into her eyes.

The Prince and Countess Olga and another officer, who had joined them, were all chaffing gaily while they smoked their cigarettes, but Gritzko appeared to be aware of everything that was pa.s.sing, for he suddenly bent over and whispered to Tamara:

"Madame, when you have been here long enough you will learn never to see what you do not wish." Then he turned back to the others, and laughed again.

What did he mean? she wondered. Were there many things then to which one must shut one's eyes?

She now caught part of the conversation that was going on.

"But why won't you come, Gritzko?" Countess Olga was saying. "It will be most amusing--and the prizes are lovely, Tatiane, who has seen them, says."

"I?--to be glued to a bridge table for three solid evenings. Mon Dieu!"

the Prince cried. "Having to take what partner falls to one's lot! No choice! My heavens! nothing would drag me. Whatever game I play in life, I will select my lady myself."

"You _are_ tiresome!" Countess Olga said. When they got to the station the Princess's coupe was waiting, as well as the Gleboff sleigh.

"Good-bye, and a thousand thanks for taking me," Tamara said, and they waved as Countess Olga drove off. And then the Prince handed her into the coupe and asked her if she would drop him on the way.

For some time after they were settled under the furs and rus.h.i.+ng along, he seemed very silent, and when Tamara ventured a few remarks he answered mechanically. At last after a while:

"You are going to this bridge tournament at the Varishkine's, I suppose?" he suddenly said. "It ought to be just your affair."

"Why my affair?" Tamara asked, annoyed. "I hate bridge."

"So you do. I forgot. But Tantine will take you, all the same. Perhaps, if nothing more amusing turns up, I will drop in one night and see; but--wheugh!" and he stretched himself and spread out his hands--"I have been impossibly _sage_ for over a fortnight. I believe I must soon break out."

"What does that mean, Prince--to 'break out'?"

"It means to throw off civilized things and be as mad as one is inclined," and he smiled mockingly while some queer, restless spirit dwelt in his eyes. "I always break out when things make me think, and just now--in the train--when you looked at the sad country----"

"That made you think?" said Tamara, surprised.

"Well--never mind, good little angel. And now good-bye," and he kissed her hand lightly and jumped out; they had arrived at his house.

Tamara drove on to the Serguiefskaia with a great desire to see him again in her heart.

And so the days pa.s.sed and the hours flew. Tamara had been in Russia almost three weeks; and since the blessing of the waters the time had been taken up with a continual round of small entertainments. The Court mourning prevented as yet any great b.a.l.l.s; but there were receptions, and "bridges" and dinners, and night after night they saw the same people, and Tamara got to know them fairly well. But after the excursion to Tsarskoi-Selo for several days she did not see the Prince.

His military duties took up his whole time, her G.o.dmother said. And when at last he did come it was among a crowd, and there was no possible chance of speech.

"This bores me," he announced when he found the room full of people, and he left in ten minutes, and they did not see him again for a week, when they met him at a dinner at the English Emba.s.sy.

Then he seemed cool and respectful and almost commonplace, and Tamara felt none of the satisfaction she should have done from this changed order of things.

At the bridge tournament he made no appearance whatever.

"Why do we see Prince Milaslavski so seldom when we go out, Marraine?"

she asked her G.o.dmother one day. "I thought all these people were his intimate friends!"

"So they are, dear; but Gritzko is an odd creature," the Princess said.

"He asked me once if I thought he was an _imbecile_ or a performing monkey, when I reproached him for not being at the b.a.l.l.s. He only goes out when he is so disposed. If some one person amuses him, or if he suddenly wants to see us all. It is merely by fits and starts--always from the point of view of if he feels inclined, never from the observance of any social law, or from obligation."

"Why on earth do you put up with such manners?" Tamara exclaimed with irritation.

"I do not know. We might not in any one else, but Gritzko is a privileged person," the Princess said. "You can't imagine, of course, dear, because you do not know him well enough, but he has ways and _facons_ of coaxing. He will do the most outrageous things, and make me very angry, and then he will come and put his head in my lap like a child, and kiss my hands, and call me 'Tantine,' and, old woman as I am, I cannot resist him. And if one is unhappy or ill, no one can be more tender and devoted." Then she added dreamily:--"While as a lover I should think he must be quite divine."

Tamara took another cup of tea and looked into the fire. She was ashamed to show how this conversation interested her.

"Tatiane Shebanoff is madly in love with him, poor thing, and I do not believe he has ever given her any real encouragement," the Princess continued. "I have seen him come to a ball, and when all the young women are longing for him to ask them to dance, he will go off with me, or old Countess Nivenska, and sit talking half the night, apparently unaware of any one else's presence."

"It seems he must be the most exasperating, tiresome person one has ever heard of, Marraine," Tamara exclaimed. "He rides over you all, and you cannot even be angry, and continually forgive him."

"But then he has his serious side," the Princess went on, eager to defend her favorite. "He is now probably studying some deep military problem all this time, and that is why we have not seen him,"--and then noticing the scornful pose of Tamara's head she laughed. "Don't be so contemptuous, dear child," she--said. "Perhaps you too will understand some day."

"That is not very likely," Tamara said.

But alas! for the Princess' optimistic surmises as to the Prince's occupations, a rumor spread toward the end of the week of the maddest orgie which had taken place at the Fontonka house. It sounded like a phantasmagoria in which unclothed dancers, and wild beasts, and unheard-of feats seemed to float about. And the Princess sighed as she refuted the gossip it caused.

"Oh, my poor Gritzko! if he might only even for a while remain in a state of grace," she said.

And Tamara's interest in him, in spite of her shocked contempt, did not decrease.

And so the time went on.

She was gradually growing to know the society better, and to get a peep at the national point of view. They were a wonderfully uncomplex people, with the perfect ease which only those at the bottom of the social ladder who have not started to climb at all, and those who have reached the top, like these, can have. They were casually friendly when the strangers pleased them, and completely unimpressed with their intrinsic worth if they did not. They seemed to see in a moment the shades in people, and only to select the best. And when Tamara came to talk seriously with even the most apparently frivolous, she found they all had the same trace of vague melancholy and mystery, as though they were grasping in the dark for something spiritual they wished to seize.

Their views and boundaries of principles in action seemed to be limitless, just as their vast country seems to have no landmarks for miles. One could imagine the unexpected happening in any of their lives. And the charm and fascination of them continued to increase.

It was late one afternoon when Prince Milaslavski again came prominently into view on Tamara's horizon.

She was sitting alone reading in the blue salon when he walked unceremoniously in.

"Give me some tea, Madame," he said. "The Princess met me in the hall, and told me I should find you here; so now let us begin by this."

Tamara poured it out and leaned back in the sofa below the beautiful Falconet group, which made--and makes--the glory of the blue salon in the Ardacheff House. She felt serene. These two weeks of unawakened emotions and just pleasant entertainments since the day at Tsarskoi had given her fresh poise.

"And what do you think of us by now, Madame?" he asked.