His Hour

Chapter 4

Next day they started, escorted to the station by a troup of gushing

friends. Their compartment was a bower of flowers, and as each moment

went by Tamara's equanimity was restored by the thought that she would

soon be out of the land of her disgrace.

It is a tiresome journey to Alexandria--dusty and glaring and not of

great interest. They hurried on board the ship when they arrived,

without even glancing at their fellow passengers following in the

gangway. Neither woman was a perfect sailor and both were quite

overcome with fatigue. It promised to be a disagreeable night, too, so

they retired at once to their cabins, and were soon asleep.

The next day, which was Sunday, the wind blew, but by the afternoon

calmed down again, and Tamara decided to dress and go on deck.

"Mrs. Hardcastle went up some hours ago; she was ready for luncheon,

ma'am," her maid told her.

"She left a message for you to join her when you woke."

The ship was the usual sort of ship that goes from Alexandria to

Trieste, and the two English ladies had secured places for their chairs

in the most protected spot. Tamara rather looked forward to being able

to sit there in the moonlight and enjoy the Mediterranean.

Her maid preceded her with her rug and cushion and book, and it was not

until she was quite settled that she took cognizance of an empty chair

at her other side.

"You lazy child!" Millicent Hardcastle said. "To sleep all day like

this! It has been quite beautiful since luncheon, and I have had a most

agreeable time. That extremely polite nice young Russian Prince we met

at the Khedive's ball is here, dear; indeed, that is his chair next

you. He is with Stephen Strong. We have been talking for hours."

Tamara felt suddenly almost cold.

"I never saw him in the train or coming on board," she said, with

almost a gasp.

"Nor did I, and yet he must have been just behind us. Our places at

meals are next him, too. So fortunate he was introduced, because one

could not talk to a strange man, even on a boat. I never can understand

those people who pick up acquaintances promiscuously; can you, dear?"

"No," said Tamara, feebly.

She was pondering what to do. She could not decline to know the Prince

without making some explanation to Millicent. She also could not

flatter him so much. She must just be icily cold, and if he should be

further impertinent she could remain in her cabin.

But what an annoying contretemps! And she had thought she should never

see him again!--and here until Wednesday afternoon, she would be

constantly reminded of the most disgraceful incident in her career. All

brought upon herself, too, by her own action in having lapsed from the

rigid rules in which Aunt Clara had brought her up.

If she had not answered him at the Sphinx--he could not have--but she

refused to dwell upon the shame of this recollection.

She had quite half an hour to grow calm before the cause of her unrest

came even into sight, and when he did, it was to walk past in the

company of their old friend, Stephen Strong.

The Prince raised his cap gravely, and Tamara comforted herself by

noticing again how badly his clothes fitted him! How unsuitable, and

even ridiculous, they were to English eyes--That gave her pleasure!

Also she must have a little fun with Millicent.

"Has it struck you, Millie, the Prince is the same young man we saw in

the pyjamas on the veranda? I am surprised at your speaking to such a

person, even if he has been introduced!"

Mrs. Hardcastle raised an aggrieved head.

"Really, Tamara," she said, "I had altogether forgotten that unpleasant

incident. I wish you had not reminded me of it. He is a most

respectful, modest, unassuming young man. I am sure he would be

dreadfully uncomfortable if he were aware we had seen him so."

"I think he looked better like that than he does now," Tamara rejoined,

spitefully. "Did you ever see such clothes?"

Mrs. Hardcastle whisked right round in her chair and stared at her

friend. She was shocked, in the first place, that Tamara should speak

so lightly of a breach of decorum; and, secondly, she was astonished at

another aspect of the case.

"I thought you never saw him at all that morning!" she exclaimed.

Tamara was nettled.

"Your description was so vivid; besides, I looked back!"

"You _looked back!_ Tamara! after I had told you he wasn't dressed! My

dear, how could you?"

"Well, I did.--Hush! he is coming toward us," and Tamara hurriedly

opened a book and looked down.

"At last Mrs. Loraine has arrived on deck," she heard Millicent say;

and then, for convention's sake she was obliged to glance up and bow

coldly.

The young man did not seem the least impressed; he sat down and pulled

his rug round his knees and gazed out at the sea. The sun had set, and

the moon would soon rise in all her full glory.

There was hardly twilight and the ship's electric lights were already

being lit. The old Englishman, Stephen Strong, greeted her and took the

chair at Mrs. Hardcastle's other side. That lady was in one of her

chatty moods, when each nicely expressed sentence fell from her lips

directly after the other--all so pleasant and easy to understand. No

one ever felt with Millicent he need use an atom of brain. These are

the women men like.

Tamara pretended to read her book, but she was conscious of the near

proximity of the Prince. Nothing so magnetic in the way of a

personality had ever crossed her path as yet.

He sat as still as a statue gazing at the sea. An uncontrollable desire

to look at him shook Tamara, but she dominated it. The discomfort at

last grew so great that she almost trembled.

Then he spoke:

"Have you cat's eyes?" he asked.

Now, when there was a legitimate chance to look at him, she found her

orbs glued to her book.

"Of course not!" she said, icily.

"Then of what use to pretend you are reading in this gloom? The

miserable lantern is not good for a gleam."

Tamara was silent. She even turned a page. She would be irritating,

too!

"That ball was a sight," he continued. "Did you see the harem ladies

peeping from their cage? They looked fat and ugly enough to be wisely

kept there. What a lot of fools they must have thought us, cavorting

for their amusement."

"Poor women!" said Tamara. Her voice was the primmest thing in voices

she had ever heard.

"Why poor women?" he asked. "They have all the pleasures of the body,

and no anxieties; nothing but the little excitement of trying now and

then to poison their rivals! It is the poor Khedive!--Think of his

having to wade through all that fat mass to find one pretty one!"

The tone of this conversation displeased Tamara. She did not wish to

enter into the ethics of the harem. She wished he would be silent

again, only that deep voice of his was so pleasant! His English was

wonderful, too, with hardly the least accent; and when she did allow

herself to look at him she could not help admiring the way his hair

grew, back from a forehead purely Greek. His nose was short and rather

square, while those too beautifully chiseled lips of his had an

expression of extraordinary charm. His whole personality breathed

attraction, every human being who approached him was conscious of it.

As for his eyes, they were enormous, with broad full lids, mystical,

passionate, and yet unconcerned. Always they suggested something

Eastern, though on the whole he was fair. Tamara's own soft brown hair

was only a shade lighter than his.

She was not sure yet, but now thought his eyes were gray.

She could have asked him a number of questions she wanted answered, but

she refrained. He suddenly turned and looked at her full in the face.

He had been gazing fixedly at the sea, and these movements of quickness

were disconcerting, especially as Tamara found herself caught in the

act of studying his features.

"What on earth made you go to the Sphinx?" he asked.

Anger rose in Tamara; the inference was not flattering, in his speech,

or the tone in which he uttered it.

"To count the number of stones the creature is made of, of course," she

said. "Those technical things are what one would go for at that time of

night."

And now her companion rippled with laughter, infectious, joyous

laughter.

"Ah, you are not so stupid as I thought!" he said, frankly. "You looked

poetic and fine with that gauze scarf around your head sitting there--

and then afterwards. Wheugh! It was like a pretty wax doll. I regretted

having wasted the village on you. All that is full of meaning for me."

Tamara was interested in spite of her will to remain reserved, although

she resented the wax-doll part.

"Yes?"--he faltered.

"You can learn all the lessons you want in life from the Sphinx," he

went on. "What paltry atoms you and I are, and how little we matter to

anyone but ourselves! She is cruel, too, and does not hesitate to tear

one in pieces if she wishes and she could make one ready to get drunk

on blood."

Tamara rounded her sweet eyes.

"Then the village there, full of men with the passions of animals,

living from father to son forever the same, wailing for a death,

rejoicing at a birth, taking strong physical pleasure in their marriage

rights and their women, and beating them when they are tired; but you

are too civilized in your country to understand any of these things."

Tamara was stirred; she felt she ought to be shocked.

Contrary to her determination, she asked a question:

"Then you are not civilized in yours?"

"Not nearly so badly," he said. "The primitive forces of life still

give us emotions, when we are not wild; when we are then it is the

jolliest hell."

Tamara was almost repulsed. How could one be so odd as this man? she

thought. Was he a type, or was he mad, or just only most annoyingly

attractive and different from any one else? She found herself thrilled.

Then with a subtle change he turned and almost tenderly wrapped the

rug, which had blown a little down, more securely round her.

"You have such a small white face," he said, the words a caress. "One

must see that you are warm and the naughty winds do not blow you away."

Tamara shivered; she could not have told why.

After this the conversation became general.

Millicent joined in with her obvious remarks. The sea was much

smoother; they would be able to eat some dinner; she had heard there

was a gipsy troupe on board in the third-class, and how nice it would

be to have some music!

And something angered Tamara in the way the Prince assisted in all

this, out-commonplacing her friend in commonplaces with the suavest

politeness, while his grave face betrayed him not even by a twinkle in

the eye. Only when he caught hers; then he laughed a sudden short

laugh, and he whispered:

"What a perfect woman! everything in the right place. Heaven! at the

best times she would do her knitting, and hand one a child every year!

I'll marry when I can find a wife like that!"

Tamara was furious. She resented his ridicule of Millicent, and she was

horrified at the whole speech; so, gathering her rug together, she said

she was cold, and asked Mr. Strong to pace the deck with her. Nor would

she take the faintest further notice of the Prince, until they all went

below to the evening meal.

At dinner he seemed to be practically a stranger again. He was Tamara's

neighbor, but he risked no startling speeches; in fact, he hardly spoke

to her, contenting himself with discussing seafaring matters with the

captain, and an occasional remark to Stephen Strong, who sat beyond

Mrs. Hardcastle. It was unnecessary for her to have decided beforehand

to snub him; he did not give her the chance.