His Hour

Chapter 10

The scene at the ballet was most brilliant, as it is always on a Sunday

night. The great auditorium, with its blue silk-curtained boxes, the

mass of glittering uniforms, and the ladies in evening-dress, although

they were all in black, made a gay spectacle almost like a gala night.

Then it is so delightful to have one's eyes pleased with what is on the

stage and yet be able to talk.

But Tamara, as she sat and looked at it, was not enjoying herself. She

was overcome with a vague feeling of unrest. She hated having to admit

that the Prince was the cause of it. She could not look ahead; she was

full of fear. She knew now that when he was near her she experienced

certain emotion, that he absorbed far too much of her thoughts. He did

not really care for her probably, and if he did, how could one hope to

be happy with such a wild, fierce man? No, she must control herself;

she must conquer his influence over her, and if she could not she

could at least go away. England seemed very uninteresting and calm--and

safe!

Filled with these sage resolutions she tried to fix her eyes on the

stage, but unconsciously they continually strayed to a tall blue figure

which was seated in the front row of the stalls with a number of

officers of the Chevaliers Gardes. And when the curtain went down,--and

instead of the Prince joining them in the box, as she fully expected he

would do, he calmly leaned against the orchestra division and surveyed

the house with his glasses--she felt a sudden pang, and talked as best

she might to the many friends who thronged to pay the Princess court.

Gritzko did not even glance their way! he stood laughing with his

comrades, and it would have been impossible to imagine anything more

insouciant and attractive and provoking than the creature looked.

"No wonder Tatiane Shbanoff is in love with him--or that actress--or--

the rest!" Tamara thought.

And then a wave of rage swept over her. She at least would not give in

and join this throng! To be his plaything. _She would_ be mistress of

herself and her thoughts!

But alas! all these emotions not unmixed with pique, spoilt the

ballet's second act!

For the interval after it, the two ladies got up and went into the

little ante-chamber beyond the box. Tamara was glad. There she could

not see what this annoying Prince would do.

What he did do was to open the door in a few minutes and saunter in. He

greeted Tamara with polite indifference, and having calmly displaced

Count Valonne, sat down by the Princess' side.

Valonne was a charming person, and he and Tamara were great friends. He

chatted on now, and she smiled at him, but with ears preternaturally

sharpened she heard the conversation of the other pair.

It was this.

"Tantine, I am feeling the absolute devil tonight. Will you come and

have supper with me after this infernal ballet is over?"

"Gritzko--what is it? Something has disturbed you!"

He leant forward and rested his chin on his hands. "Well, your haughty

guest touched me with too sharp a spur, perhaps," he said, "but she was

right. I do waste my life. I have been thinking of my mother. I believe

she might not be pleased with me sometimes. And then I felt mad, and

now I must do something to forget. So if you won't sup--"

"Oh! Gritzko!" the Princess said.

"I telephoned home and ordered things to be ready. I know you don't

like a restaurant. Say you will come," and he kissed her hand. "I have

asked all the rest." And the Princess had to consent!

"You must promise not to quarrel any more with my godchild if we do. I

am sure you frighten and upset her, Gritzko--promise me," she said. He

laughed.

"I upset her! She is too cold and good to be upset!"

Tamara still continued to talk to Valonne, and presently they all moved

into the box, and the Prince sat down beside her, and again as he

leaned over in the shaded light that nameless physical thrill crept

over her. Was she really cold, she asked herself. If so, why should she

shiver as she was shivering now?

"I wonder if you have any heart at all, Madame?" he said. "If under the

mummy's wrappings there is some flesh and blood?"

Then she turned and answered him with passion. "Of course there is,"

she said.

He bent over still nearer. "Just for to-night, shall we not quarrel or

spar?" he whispered. "See, I will treat you as a sister and friend. I

want to be petted and spoilt--I am sad."

Tamara, of course, melted at once! His extraordinarily attractive voice

was very deep and had a note in it which touched her heart.

"Please don't be sad," she said softly. "Perhaps you think I was unkind

to-day, but indeed it was only because--Oh! because it seemed to me

such waste that you--you should be like that."

"It hurt like the fiend, you know," he said, "the thought of the damned

circus. I think we are particularly sensitive as a race to those sort

of things. If you had been a man I would have killed you."

"I hated to hear what you told me," and Tamara looked down. "It seemed

so dreadful--so barbaric--and so childish for a man who really has a

brain. If you were just an animal person like some of the others are,

it would not have mattered; but you--please I would like you never to

do any of these mad things again--"

Then she stopped suddenly and grew tenderly pink. She realized the

inference he must read in her words.

He did not speak for a moment, only devoured her with his great

blue-gray eyes. Of what he was thinking she did not know. It made her

uncomfortable and a little ashamed. Why had she melted, it was never

any use. So she drew herself up stiffly and leaned back in her seat.

Then down at the side by the folds of her dress he caught her hand

while he said quite low:

"Madame, I must know--do you mean that?"

"Yes," she said, and tried to take away her hand. "Yes, I mean that I

think it dreadful for any human being to throw things away--and Oh! I

would like you to be very great."

He did not let go her hand, indeed he held it the more tightly.

"You are a dear after all, and I will try," he said. "And when I have

pleased you you must give me a reward."

"Alas! What reward could I give you, Prince," she sighed.

"That I will tell you when the time comes."

Thus peace seemed to be restored, and soon the curtain fell for the

interval before the last act, and the Prince got up and went out of the

box.

He did not reappear again, but was waiting for them to start for his

house.

"I met Stephen Strong, Tantine," he said. "He left me at Trieste, you

know, and only arrived in Petersburg to-day. He has got a cousin with

him, Lord something, so I have asked them both to come along. They will

be a little late they said."

"It is not Jack Courtray by chance--is it?" Tamara asked, in an

interested voice, as they went. "Mr. Strong has a cousin who lives near

us in the country and he is always traveling about."

"Yes, I think that is the name--Courtray. So you know him then!" and

the Prince leant forward from the seat which faced them. "An ami

d'enfance?"

"We used to play cricket and fish and bird's-nest," she said. "Tom--my

brother Tom--was his fag at Eton--he is one of my oldest friends--dear

old Jack."

"How fortunate I met him to-night!"

"Indeed, yes."

Then her attention was diverted, as it always was each time she saw the

blazing braziers and heaped up flaming piles of wood at the corners of

the streets, since she had been in Russia. "How glad I am there is

something to make the poor people warm," she said.

"When it gets below twelve degrees it is difficult to enjoy life,

certainly," the Prince agreed. "And, indeed, it is hard sometimes not

to freeze."

It was a strange lurid picture, the Isvostchiks drawn round, while the

patient horses with their sleighs stood quiet some little distance off.

How hard must existence be to these poor things.

Supper could not be ready for half an hour, the Prince told them when

they got to the Fontonka House, and as they all arrived more or less

together, they soon paired off for bridge.

"I am going to show Mrs. Loraine my pictures," the host said. "She

admires our Catherine and Peter the Great."

And in the salon where they all sat, he began pointing out this one and

that, making comments in a distrait voice. But when they came to the

double doors at the end he opened them wide, and led Tamara into

another great room.

"This is the ballroom," he said. "It is like all ballrooms, so we shall

not linger over that. I have two Rembrandts in my own apartment beyond

which it may interest you to see, and a few other relics of the past."

He was perfectly matter of fact, his manner had not a shade of

gallantry in it, and Tamara accepted this new situation and followed

him without a backward thought.

They seemed to go through several sheet-shrouded salons and came out

into a thoroughly comfortable room. Its general aspect of decoration

had a Byzantine look, and on the floor were several magnificent bear

skins, while around the walls low bookcases with quantities of books

stood. And above them many arms were crossed. Over the mantlepiece a

famous Rembrandt frowned, and another from the opposite wall. But it

was strange there were no photographs of dancers or actresses about as

Tamara would have thought.

The Prince talked intelligently. He seemed to know of such things as

pictures, and understood their technique. And if he had been an elderly

art critic he could not have been more aloof.

Presently Tamara noticed underneath the first picture there was hung a

quaint sword. Something in its shape and workmanship attracted her

attention, and she asked its history.

The Prince took it down and placed it in her hand.

"That sword belonged to a famous person," he said--"a Cossack--Stenko

Razin was his name--a robber and a brigand and a great chief. He loved

a lady, a Persian Princess whom he had captured, and one day when out

on his yacht on the Volga, being drunk from a present of brandy some

Dutch travellers had brought him, he clasped her in his arms. She was

very beautiful and gentle and full of exquisite caresses, and he loved

her more than all his wealth. But mad thoughts mounted to his brain,

and after making an oration to the Volga for all the riches and plunder

she had brought him, he reproached himself that he had never given this

river anything really valuable in return, and then exclaiming he would

repair his fault, unclasped the clinging arms of his mistress and flung

her overboard."

"What a horrible brute!" exclaimed Tamara, and she put down the sword.

The Prince took it up and drew it from its sheath.

"The Cossacks had a wild strain in them even in those days," he said.

"You must not be too hard on me for merely riding my horse!"

"Would you be cruel like that, too, Prince?" Tamara asked; and she sat

down for a second on the arm of a carved chair. And when he had put the

sword back in its place, he bent forward and leaned on the back of it.

"Yes, I could be cruel, I expect," he said. "I could be even brutal if

I were jealous, or the woman I loved played me false, but I would not

be cruel to her while it hurt myself. Razin lost his pleasure for days

through one mad personal act. It would have been more sensible to have

kept her until he was tired of her, or she had grown cold to him. Don't

you agree with me about that?"

"It is a horrible history and I hate it," Tamara said. "Such ways I do

not understand. For me love means something tender and true which could

never want to injure the thing it loved."

He looked at her gravely.

"Lately I have wondered what love could mean for me. Tell me what you

think, Madame," he said.

She resolved not to allow any emotion to master her, though she was

conscious of a sudden beating of her heart.

"You would torture sometimes, and then you would caress."

"I would certainly caress."

He moved from his position and walked across the room, while he talked

as though the words burst from him.

"Yes, I should demand unquestioning surrender, and if it were refused

me, then I might be cruel. And if my love were cold or capricious,

_then_ I would leave her. But if she loved me truly--my God, it would

be bliss."

"Think how it would hurt her when you did those foolish things though,"

Tamara said.

He stopped short in his restless walk.

"No one does foolish things when he is happy, Madame. All such

outbursts are the froth of a soul in its seething. But if one were

satisfied--" he paused, and then he went on again. "Oh! If you knew!--

In the desert in Egypt I used to think I had found rest, sometimes. I

am sated with this life here. A quoi bon, Madame!--the same thing year

after year!--and then since I have known you. I have wondered if

perhaps you in your country could teach me peace."

"So many of you are so dsquilibrs," Tamara said. "You seem to be so

polished and sensible and even great, and then in a moment you are off

at a tangent, displaying that want of discipline that we at home would

not permit in a child."

"Yes it is true."

"It seems that you love, and must have, or you hate and must kill.

There are storms and passions, and the gaiety of children and their

irresponsibility, and all on the top is good manners and smiles, but

underneath--I have a feeling I know not what volcano may burst."

"Tonight I feel one could flame with me." He came up close now and

looked into her eyes, as if he were going to say something, and then he

restrained himself.

Tamara did not move, she looked at him gravely.

"You all seem as if you had no aim," she said. "You are not interested

in the politics of your country. You don't seem to do anything but kill

time--Why?"

"Our country!" he said, and he flung himself into a seat near. "It

would be difficult to make you understand about that. In the old days

of the serfs, it was all very well. One could be a good landlord and

father to them all, but now----" Then he got up restlessly and paced

the room. "Now there are so many questions. If one would think it would

drive one mad, but I am a soldier, Madame, so I do not permit myself to

speculate at all."

"Things are not then as you would wish?" she asked.

"As I would wish--no, not as I would wish--but as I told you, I do not

mix myself up with them. I only obey the Emperor and shall to the end

of my life."

Tamara saw she had stirred too deep waters. His face wore a look of

profound melancholy. She had never felt so drawn toward him. She let

her eyes take in the picture he made. There was something very noble

about his brow and the set of his head. Who could tell what thoughts

were working in his brain. Presently he got up again and knelt by her

side--his movements had the grace and agility of a cat. He took her

hand and kissed it.

"Madame, please don't make me think," he said. "The question is too

great for one man to help. I do not go with the Liberals or any of the

revolt. Indeed I am far on the other side. Good to this country should

all have come in a different, finer way, and now it must work out its

own salvation as best it may. For me, my only duty is to my master.

Nothing else could count." His eyes which looked into hers seemed

great sombre pools of unrest and pain.

She did not take away her hand and he kissed it again.

Then the clock on the mantlepiece chimed one, and she started to her

feet.

"Oh! Prince, should we not be thinking of supper," she said. "Come, let

us forget we have been serious and go back and eat!"

He rose.

"They have probably gone in without us, they know me so well," he said;

"but as you say, we will no more be serious, we will laugh."

Then he took her hand, and merrily, like two children, they ran through

all the big empty rooms to find exactly what he had predicted had

occurred. The party were at supper quite unconcerned!

It was such a gay scene. Princess Sonia and Serge Grekoff were busily

cutting raw ham, by their places; while others drank tea or vodka or

champagne, or helped themselves from various dishes the servants had

brought up. There was no ceremony or stiffness, each one did as he

pleased.

And there sitting by Olga Glboff, already perfectly at home, was Lord

Courtray; and further down the Princess Ardcheff sat by Stephen

Strong.

"Gritzko--we could not wait!" Countess Olga said.

Then both the Englishmen got up and greeted Tamara.

"Fancy seeing you here, Tamara! What a bit of luck!" Jack Courtray

said.