His Hour

Chapter 8

The company stopped their game about a quarter to twelve, and tables

and champagne and glasses were brought in, and hand in hand they made a

circle and drank in the New Year.

Tamara took care to stand by Princess Ardcheff, but her host looked at

her as he raised his glass. Then they descended to the hall, and were

wrapped in their furs again to go to the caf where the Bohemians were

to sing.

Tamara and the Princess were already in the latter's coup when Prince

Milaslvski called out: "Tantine--! take me too--I am slim and can sit

between you, and I want to arrive soon, I have sent my motor on with

Serge and Valonne."

And without waiting he got in.

They had to sit very close, and Tamara became incensed with herself,

because in spite of all her late rage with the Prince, she experienced

a sensation which was disturbing and unknown. The magnetic personality

of the man was so strong. He bent and whispered something to the

Princess, and then as though sharing a secret, he leaned the other way,

and whispered to Tamara, too. The words were nothing, only some

ordinary nonsense, of which she took no heed. But as he spoke his lips

touched her ear. A wild thrill ran through her, she almost trembled, so

violent was the emotion the little seemingly accidental caress caused.

A feeling she had never realized in the whole of her life before. Why

did he tease her so. Why did he always behave in this maddening manner!

and choose moments when she was defenseless and could make no move. Of

one thing she was certain, if she should stay on in Russia she must

come to some understanding with him if possible, and prevent any more

of these ways--absolutely insulting to her self-respect.

So she shrunk back in her corner and gave no reply.

"Are you angry with me?" he whispered. "It was the shaking of the

automobile which caused me to come too near you. Forgive me, I will try

not to sin again,"--but as he spoke he repeated his offense!

Tamara clasped her hands together, tightly, and answered in the coldest

voice--

"I did not notice anything, Prince, it must be a guilty conscience

which causes you to apologize."

"In that case then all is well!" and he laughed softly.

The Princess now joined in the conversation.

"Gritzko, you must tell Mrs. Loraine how these gipsies are, and what

she will hear--she will think it otherwise so strange."

He turned to Tamara at once.

"They are a queer people who dwell in a clan. They sing like the

fiend--one hates it or loves it, but it gets on the nerves, and if a

man should fancy one of them, he must pay the chief, not the girl. Then

they are faithful and money won't tempt them away. But if the man makes

them jealous, they run a knife into his back."

"It sounds exciting at all events," Tamara said.

"It is an acquired taste, and if you have a particularly sensitive ear

the music will make you feel inclined to scream. It drives me mad."

"Gritzko," the Princess whispered to him. "You promise to be _sage_,

dear boy, do you not? Sometimes you alarm me when you go too far."

"Tantine!" and he kissed her hand. "Your words are law!"

"Alas! if that were only true," she said with a sigh.

"Tonight all shall be suited to the eleven thousand virgins!" and he

laughed. "Or shall I say suited to an English _grande dame_--which is

the same!"

They had crossed the Neva by now, and presently arrived at a building

with a gloomy looking door, and so to a dingy hall, in which a few

waiters were scurrying about. They seemed to go through endless shabby

passages, like those of a lunatic asylum, and finally arrived at a

large and empty room--empty so far as people were concerned--for at the

end there were sofas and a long narrow table, and a few smaller ones

with chairs.

The tables were already laid, with dishes of raw ham and salted almonds

and various _bonnes bouches_, while brilliant candelabra shone amidst

numerous bottles of champagne.

The company seemed to have forgotten the gloom that playing bridge had

brought over them, and were as gay again as one could wish, while

divesting themselves of their furs and snow-boots.

And soon Tamara found herself seated on the middle sofa behind the long

table, Count Glboff on her right, and the French Secretary, Count

Valonne, at her left, while beyond him was Princess Sonia, and near by

all the rest.

Their host stood up in front, a brimming glass in his hand.

Then there filed in about twenty-five of the most unattractive

animal-looking females, dressed in ordinary hideous clothes, who all

took their seats on a row of chairs at the farther end. They wore no

national costume nor anything to attract the eye, but were simply

garbed as concierges or shop-girls might have been; and some were old,

gray-haired women, and one had even a swollen face tied up in a black

scarf! How could it be possible that any of these could be the "fancy"

of a man!

They were followed by about ten dark, beetle-browed males, who carried

guitars.

These were the famous Bohemians! Their appearance at all events was

disillusioning enough. Tamara's disappointment was immense.

But presently when they began to sing she realized that there was

something--something in their music--even though it was of an intense

unrest.

She found it was the custom for them to sing a weird chant song on the

name of each guest, and every one must drink to this guest's health,

all standing, and quaffing the glasses of champagne down at one

draught.

That they all remained sober at the end of the evening seemed to do

great credit to their heads, for Tamara, completely unaccustomed to the

smoke and the warm room, feared even to sip at her glass.

The toasting over, every one sat down, Prince Milaslvski and a Pole

being the only two in front of the table, and they with immense spirit

chaffed the company, and called the tunes.

The music was of the most wild, a queer metallic sound, and the airs

were full of unexpected harmonies and nerve-racking chords. It fired

the sense, in spite of the hideous singers.

They all sat there with perfectly immovable faces and entirely still

hands,--singing without gesticulations what were evidently passionate

love-songs! Nothing could have been more incongruous or grotesque!

But the fascination of it grew and grew. Every one of their ugly faces

remained printed on Tamara's brain. Long afterward she would see them

in dreams.

How little we yet know of the force of sounds! How little we know of

any of the great currents which affect the world and human life!

And music above any other art stirs the sense. Probably the Greek myth

of Orpheus and his lute was not a myth after all; perhaps Orpheus had

mastered the occult knowledge of this great power. Surely it would be

worth some learned scientist's while to investigate from a

psychological point of view how it is, and why it is, that certain

chords cause certain emotions, and give base or elevating visions to

human souls.

The music of these gipsies was of the devil, it seemed to Tamara, and

she was not surprised at the wild look in Prince Milaslvski's eyes,

for she herself--she, well brought up, conventionally crushed English

Tamara,--felt a strange quickening of the pulse.

After an hour or so of this music, two of the younger Bohemian women

began to dance, not in the least with the movements that had shocked

Mrs. Hardcastle in the Alexandrian troupe on the ship, but a foolish

valsing, while the shoulders rose and fell and quivered like the

flapping wings of some bird. The shoulders seemed the talented part,

not the body or hips.

And then about three o'clock the entire troupe filed out of the room

for refreshment and rest. The atmosphere was thick with smoke, and

heated to an incredible extent. Some one started to play the piano, and

every one began to dance a wild round--a mazurka, perhaps--and Tamara

found herself clasped tightly in the arms of her Prince.

She did not know the step, but they valsed to the tune, and all the

time he was whispering mad things in Russian in her ear. She could not

correct him, because she did not know what they might mean.

"Doushka," he said at last. "So you are awake; so it is not milk and

water after all in those pretty blue veins! God! I will teach you to

live!"

And Tamara was not angry; she felt nothing except an unreasoning

pleasure and exultation.

The amateur bandsman came to a stop, and another took his place; but

the spell fortunately was broken, and she could pull herself together

and return to sane ways.

"I am tired," she said, when the Prince would have gone on, "and I am

almost faint for want of air." So he opened a window and left her for a

moment in peace.

She danced again with the first man who asked her, going quickly from

one to another so as to avoid having to be too often held by the

Prince. But each time she felt his arm round her, back again would

steal the delicious mad thrill.

"I hope you are amusing yourself, dear child," her godmother said.

"This is a Russian scene; you would not see it in any other land."

And indeed Tamara was happy, in spite of her agitation and unrest.

She sat down now with Olga Glboff, and they watched the others while

they took breath. The Prince was dancing with Princess Shbanoff, and

her charming face was turned up to him with an adoring smile.

"Poor Tatiane,--" Countess Olga said low to herself.

When the gipsies returned, their music grew wilder than ever, and some

of the solos seemed to touch responsive chords in Tamara's very bones.

The Prince sat next her on the sofa now, and every few moments he would

bend over to take an almond, or light a cigarette, so that he touched

her apparently without intention, but nevertheless with intent. And the

same new and intoxicating sensation would steal through her, and she

would draw her slender figure away and try to be stiff and severe, but

with no effect.

It was long after five o'clock before it was all done, and they began

to wrap up and say "Goodnight." And the troupe, bowing, went out to

another engagement they had.

"They sing all night and sleep in the day," Count Glboff told Tamara,

as they descended the stairs. "At this time of the year they never see

daylight, only sometimes the dawn."

"Tantine," said the Prince, "order your motor to go back. I sent for my

troika, and it is here. We must show Madame Loraine what a sleigh feels

like."

And the Princess agreed.

Oh! the pleasure Tamara found when presently they were flying over the

snow, the side horses galloping with swift, sure feet. And under the

furs she and her godmother felt no cold, while Gritzko, this wild

Prince, sat facing them, his splendid eyes ablaze.

Presently they stopped and looked out on the Gulf of Finland and a vast

view. Above were countless stars and a young, rising moon.

It was striking seven as they went to their rooms.

Such was Tamara's first outing in this land of the North.