His Hour

Chapter 20

The lunch passed off with quiet reserve--there was no one present but

Stephen Strong. Tamara endeavored to behave naturally and answered

Gritzko whenever he spoke to her. He, too, played his part, but the

tone of things did not impose upon Stephen Strong.

As they were leaving the diningroom, on the plea of finding something,

Tamara went to her room, and Gritzko took his leave.

"I will fetch you for the French plays tonight, Tantine," he said, "and

probably will come back to tea--tell Tamara," and so he left, and the

two old friends were alone.

They stirred their coffee and then lit cigarettes--there was an awkward

silence for a moment, and then the Princess said:

"Stephen, I count upon you to help us all over this. I do not, and will

not, even guess what has happened, but of course something has. Only

tell me, do you think he loves her? I cannot bear the idea of Tamara's

being unhappy."

The old Englishman puffed rings of smoke.

"If she is prepared never to cross his will, but let him be absolute

master of her body and soul, while he makes continuous love to her, I

should think she will be the happiest woman in the world. She is madly

infatuated with him. She has been ever since we came from Egypt--I saw

the beginning on the boat--and I warned you, as you know, when I

thought he was only fooling."

"In Egypt!--they had met before then!" the Princess exclaimed,

surprised; "how like Gritzko to pretend he did not know her,--and be

introduced all over again! They had already quarreled, I suppose, and

that accounts for the cat and dog like tone there has always been

between them."

"Probably," said Stephen Strong; but now I think we can leave it to

chance. You may be certain that to marry her is what he wishes most to

do,--or he would not have asked her."

"Not even if--he thought he ought to?"

"No--dear friend. No! I believe I know Gritzko even better than you do.

If there was a sense of obligation, and no desire in the case, he

would simply shoot her and himself, rather than submit to a fate

against his inclination. You may rest in peace about that. Whatever

strain there is between them, it is not of that sort. I believe he

adores her in his odd sort of way, just let them alone now and all will

be well."

And greatly comforted the Princess was able to go out calling.

The news was received with every sort of emotion,--surprise, chagrin,

joy, excitement, speculation, and there were even those among them who

averred they had predicted this marriage all along.

"Fortunately we like her," Countess Olga said. "She is a good sort, and

perhaps she will keep Gritzko quiet, and he may be faithful to her."

But this idea was laughed to scorn, until Valonne joined in with his

understanding smile.

"I will make you a bet," he said; "in five years' time they will still

be love-birds. She will be the only one among this party who won't have

been divorced and have moved on to another husband."

"You horribly spiteful cat!" Princess Sonia laughed. "But I am sure we

all hope they will be happy."

Meanwhile Jack Courtray had come in at once to see Tamara.

"Well, upon my word! fancy you marrying a foreigner, old girl!" he

said; "but you have got just about the best chap I have ever met, and I

believe you'll be jolly happy."

And Tamara bent down so that he should not see the tears which gathered

in her eyes, while she answered softly, "Thank you very much, Jack; but

no one is ever sure of being happy."

And even though Lord Courtray's perceptions were rather thick he

wondered at her speech--it upset him.

"Look here, Tamara," he said, "don't you do it then if it is a chancy

sort of thing. Don't go and tie yourself up if you aren't sure you love

him."

Love him!--good God!--

Pent-up feeling overcame Tamara. She answered in a voice her old

playmate had never dreamed she possessed--so concentrated and full of

passion. In their English lives they were so accustomed to controlling

every feeling into a level commonplace that if they had had time to

think, both would have considered this outburst melodramatic.

"Jack," Tamara said, "you don't know what love is. I tell you I know

now--I love Gritzko so that I would rather be unhappy with him than

happy with any one else on earth. And if they ask you at home, say I

would not care if he were a Greek, or a Turk, or an African n****r, I

would follow him to perdition.--There!"--and she suddenly burst into

tears and buried her face in her hands.

Yes, it was true. In spite of shame and disgrace, and fear, she loved

him--passionately loved him.

Of course Jack, who was the kindest-hearted creature, at once put his

arm around her and took out his handkerchief and wiped her eyes, while

he said soothingly:

"I say, my child--there! there!--this will never do," and he continued

to pet and try to comfort her, but all she could reply was to ask him

to go, and to promise her not to say anything about her outburst of

tears to any one.

And, horribly distressed, Jack did what she wished, running against

Gritzko in the passage as he went out; but they had met before that

day, so he did not stop, but, nodding in his friendly way, passed down

the stairs.

Tamara sat where he had left her, the tears still trickling over her

cheeks, while she stared into the fire. The vision she saw there of her

future did not console her.

To be married to a man whom she knew she would daily grow to love

more--every moment of her time conscious that the tie was one of

sufferance, her pride and self respect in the dust--it was a miserable

picture.

Gritzko came in so quietly through the anteroom that, lost in her

troubled thoughts, she did not hear him until he was quite close. She

gave a little startled exclamation and then looked at him defiantly--

she was angry that he saw her tears.

His face went white and his voice grew hoarse with overmastering

emotion.

"What has happened between you and your friend, Madame? Tell me the

truth. No man should see you cry! Tell me everything, or I will kill

him."

And he stood there his eyes blazing.

Then Tamara rose and drew herself to her full height, while a flash of

her vanished pride returned to her mien, and with great haughtiness she

answered in a cold voice:

"I beg you to understand one thing, Prince, I will not be insulted by

suspicions and threats against my friends. Lord Courtray and I have

been brought up as brother and sister. We spoke of my home, which I may

never see again, and I told him what he was to say to them there when

they asked about me. If I have cried I am ashamed of my tears, and when

you speak and act as you have just done, it makes me ashamed of the

feeling which caused them."

He took a step nearer, he admired her courage.

"What was the feeling which caused them? Tell me, I must know,--" he

said; but as he spoke he chanced to notice she had replaced her wedding

ring, it shone below his glittering ruby.

"That I will not bear!" he exclaimed, and with almost violence he

seized her wrist and forcibly drew both rings from her finger, and then

replaced his own.

"There shall be no token of another! No gold band there but mine, and

until then, no jewel but this ruby!"

Then he dropped her hand and turning, threw the wedding ring with

passion in the fire!

Tamara made a step forward in protest, and then she stood petrified

while her eyes flashed with anger.

"Indeed, yes, I am ashamed I cried!" she said at last between her

teeth.

He made some restless paces, he was very much moved.

"I must know--" he began. But at that moment the servants came in with

the tea, and Tamara seized the opportunity while they were settling the

tray to get nearer the door, and then fled from the room, leaving

Gritzko extremely disturbed.

What could she mean? He knew in his calmer moments he had not the least

cause to be jealous of Jack. What was the inference in her words? Two

weeks seemed a long time to wait before he could have all clouds

dispersed, all things explained--as she lay in his arms. And this

thought--to hold her in his arms--drove him wild. He felt inclined to

rush after her, to ask her to forgive him for his anger, to kiss and

caress her, to tell her he loved her madly and was jealous of even the

air she breathed until he should hear her say she loved him.

He went as far as to write a note.

"Madame," he began--He determined to keep to the severest formality or

he knew he would never be able to play his part until the end.--"I

regret my passion just now. The situation seemed peculiar as I came in.

I understand there was nothing for me to have been angry about,--please

forgive me. Rest now. I will come and fetch you at quarter to eight.

"Gritzko."

And as he went away he had it sent to her room.

And when Tamara read it the first gleam of comfort she had known since

the night at the hut illumined her thoughts. If he should love her--

after all!--But no, this could not be so; his behavior was not the

behavior of love. But in spite of the abiding undercurrent of

humiliation and shame, the situation was intensely exciting. She

feverishly looked forward to the evening. Her tears seemed to have

unlocked her heart--she was no longer numb. She was perfectly aware

that no matter what he had done she wildly loved him. He had taken

everything from her, dragged her down from her pedestal, but that last

remnant of self-respect she would keep. He should not know of this

crowning humiliation--that she still loved him. So her manner was like

ice when he came into the room, and the chill of it communicated itself

to him. They hardly spoke on the way to the Thtre Michel, and when

they entered the box she pretended great interest in the stage, while,

between the acts, all their friends came in to give their

congratulations.

Tamara asked to be excused from going on to supper and the ball which

was taking place. And she kept close to her godmother while going out,

and so contrived that she did not say a word alone with Gritzko. It was

because he acquiesced fully in this line of conduct that she was able

to carry it through, otherwise he would not have permitted it for a

moment.

He realized from this night that the situation could only be made

possible if he saw her rarely and before people--alone with her, human

nature would be too strong. So with the most frigid courtesy and

ceremony between them the days wore on, and toward the beginning of the

following week Gritzko went off with Jack Courtray on the bear-hunt. He

could stand no more.

But after he was gone Tamara loathed the moments. She was overwrought

and overstrung. Harassed by the wailing and expostulations of her

family for what they termed her "rash act," worried by dressmakers and

dozens of letters to write, troubled always with the one dominating

fear, at last she collapsed and for two days lay really ill in a

darkened room.

Then Gritzko returned, and there were only five days before the

wedding. He had sent her flowers each morning as a lover should, and he

had loaded her with presents,--all of which she received in the same

crushed spirit. With the fixed idea in her brain that he was only

marrying her because as a gentleman he must, none of his gifts gave her

any pleasure. And he, with immense control of passion had played his

part, only his time of probation was illumined by the knowledge of

coming joy. Whereas poor Tamara, as the time wore on, lost all hope,

and grew daily paler and more fragile-looking.

Her father had a bad attack of the gout, and could not possibly move;

but her brother Tom and her sister, Lady Newbridge, and Millicent

Hardcastle were to arrive three days before the wedding.