His Hour

Chapter 3

The Khedive's ball was a fairly fine sight, Tamara thought, but driving

through the streets took such a ridiculously long time, the crowd was

so great. The palace itself was, and probably is still, like all other

palaces that are decorated in that nondescript style of Third Empire

France--not a thing of beauty. But the leve uniforms of the officers

gave an air of brilliance contrasted with the civilians of the

Government of Egypt. Tamara thought their dress very ugly, it reminded

her of a clergyman's at a children's party, where he has been decorated

with caps and sham orders from the crackers to amuse the little guests.

It seemed strange to see the English faces beneath the fez. She and

Millicent Hardcastle walked about and talked to their friends. There

were many smart young gallants in the regiments then quartered in

Cairo, who enjoyed dancing with the slender, youthful widow with the

good jewels and pretty dress, and soon Tamara found herself whirling

with a gay hussar.

"Let us stop near the Royalties and look at the Russians," he said.

"You know, a Grand Duke arrived to-day, and must be here to-night."

They came to a standstill close to the little group surrounding the

Khedive, and amid the splendid uniforms of the Grand Duke's suite there

was one of scarlet, the like of which Tamara had never seen before.

Afterward she learned it was a Cossack of the Emperor's escort, but at

the moment it seemed like a gorgeous fancy dress. The high boots and

long, strangely graceful coat, cut with an Eastern hang, the white

under-dress, the way the loose scarlet sleeves fell at the wrist,

showing the white tight ones, the gold and silver trimmings and the

arms, stuck in the quaint belt, all pleased her eye extremely; and then

she recognized its wearer as the young man of the Sphinx.

How dress changes a person! she thought. He looked at ease now in this

gorgeous garment, and a very prince for a fairy tale. That accounted

for the dreadful gray flannel--he was a soldier and unaccustomed to

wearing ordinary clothes. She had heard that in foreign countries even

the officers wore their uniforms habitually; not as the English do,

merely as an irksome duty.

He did not appear to see her, but when she began dancing again, and

paused once more for breath, she was close to him as he stood some way

apart and alone.

Their eyes met. His had the same whimsical provoking smile in them

which angered and yet attracted her. He made no move to bow to her, nor

did he take any steps to be introduced. She burnt with annoyance.

"He might at least have been presented; it is too impertinent

otherwise!" she thought.

She knew she was looking her best: a fair, distinguished woman as young

and fresh as a girl. Hardly a man in the room was unconscious of her

presence. Anger lent an extra brightness to her eyes and cheeks. She

went on dancing wildly.

The next time she was near the stranger was some half an hour later,

although not once was she able to banish the scarlet form from her

view. He did not dance. He talked now and then to his Prince, and then

he was presented to the official ladies, with the rest of the suite. He

looked bored.

Tamara would not ask his name, which she could have done with ease, as

every one was interested in the Russians and glad to talk about them.

She avoided the English group of bigwigs where they were standing, and

where she had her place--And when they passed the tall Cossack again

she turned upon him a witheringly unconscious glance.

However, this was not to continue the whole night, for presently she

was requested by one of the attachs to come and be presented to the

Grand Duke, and when she had made her curtsey the suite came up in

turn.

"Prince Milaslvski," and she heard one of his friends call him

"Gritzko." The name fell pleasantly on her ears--"Gritzko"! Why was he

such a wretch as to humiliate her so? She felt horribly small. She

ought never to have let him speak to her at the Sphinx. She was being

thoroughly punished for her unconventionality now!

She said a few words in French to each of the others, and then, as he

still stood there with that provoking smile in his splendid eyes, she

turned away almost biting her lip with shame and rage.

Before she knew it she was dancing with a fierce count in green and

silver. Their conversation was interesting.

"You are here since long, Madame?"

"No, Monsieur, only a few weeks, and I go to-morrow."

"Ah! you dance beautifully!"

"Do I? I am glad----"

The Russian Count held her very tightly, and they stopped quite out of

breath, where the screened windows half-hid the poor ladies of the

harem, who watched the throng from their safe retreat.

The Count bowed--and Tamara bowed. A section, not the whole dance, was

evidently the Russian custom.

Then a voice said close to her ear:

"May I, too, have the honor of a turn, Madame?" and she looked up into

the eyes of the Prince.

For a second she hesitated. Her first impulse was to scornfully say no,

but she quickly realized that would be undignified and absurd; so she

said yes, coldly, and let him place his arm about her. The band was

playing a particularly sensuous valse, which drove all young people mad

that year, and--if the Count had danced well--this man's movements were

heaven. Tamara did not speak a word. She purposely did not look at him,

but drooped her proud head so that the flashing diamonds of her tiara

were all he could have seen of her.

He put no special meaning into the way he held her; he just danced

divinely; but there was something in the creature himself of a

perfectly annoying attractiveness--or so it seemed to Tamara.

They at last paused for a moment, and then he spoke. He made not the

slightest allusion to the Sphinx incident. He spoke gravely of Cairo,

and the polo, and the races, and said that his Grand Duke had arrived

that day. He was not on his staff, but was indeed travelling in Egypt

for his own amusement and delectation, he said.

He had been there since November, it seemed, and had been up the Nile,

and had fortunately been able to secure a little bungalow at Mena,

where he could spend some hours of peace.

Then Tamara laughed. She remembered Millicent Hardcastle's

consternation over those unfortunate pyjamas. She wondered if Millicent

would realize that she--Tamara--was dancing with their wearer now! When

she laughed he put his arm around her once more and began dancing. This

time he held her rather closely, and suddenly as she laughed again to

herself provokingly, he clasped her tight.

"If you laugh like that I will kiss you--here in the room," he said.

Tamara stopped dead short. She blazed with anger.

"How dare you be so impertinent?" she said.

They were up in a corner; everyone's back was turned to them happily,

for in one second he had bent and kissed her neck. It was done with

such incredible swiftness and audacity that even had they been observed

it must only have looked as though he bent to pick up something she had

dropped. But the kiss burned into Tamara's flesh.

She could hardly keep the tears of outraged pride from her eyes.

"How dare you! How dare you!" she hissed. "Truly you are making me

ashamed of having let you speak to me last night!"

"Last night?" he said, while he forcibly drew her hand within his arm

and began walking toward the group of her friends. "Last night you were

afraid some should see me from the hotel, and to-night you dare me. Do

it once more and I will kiss your lips!"

Tamara went dead white; she felt as if the ground were sinking beneath

her feet; her knees trembled. In all her smooth, conventionally ordered

life she had never experienced such a strong emotion.

The Prince glanced at her, and the fierceness went out of his eyes. He

bowed gravely with the most courtly homage, and left her standing by

Millicent's side.

Then Tamara remembered she was a lady, and that tenue was expected of

her; so she turned to her friend gaily and said how she was enjoying

the ball; but her fine nostrils quivered at intervals for the rest of

the night.

"Thank God!" she said to herself, when a few hours later she got into

bed--"Thank God! we are going tomorrow. I shall never see him again,

and no one shall ever know."