It was perhaps a fortunate thing that for three days after this the Prince was kept at his military duties at TsarskÖi-SÉlo, and could not come to Petersburg, for he was in a mood that could easily mean mischief. Tamara also was inclined to take things in no docile spirit.

She felt very unhappy, underneath her gay exterior. It was not agreeable to her self-respect to realize she was fleeing from a place because she loved a man whose actions showed he did not entertain the same degree of feeling for her. No amount of attention from any other quite salved that ever-constant inward hurt.

She went often through strange moments. In the middle of a casual conversation suddenly back would come a wave of remembrance of the dawn drive in the troika, and she would actually quiver with physical emotion as the vivid recollection of the bliss of it would sweep over her.

Then she would clench her hands and determine more fiercely than ever to banish such memories. But with all her will, hardly for ten minutes at a time could she keep Gritzko from her thoughts. His influence over her was growing into an obsession.

She wondered why he did not come. She would not ask her godmother. The three days passed in a feverish, gnawing unrest; and on the third evening they went to the ballet again.

Opposite them, in a box, a very dark young woman was seated. She had a hard, determined face, and she was well dressed, and not too covered with jewels.

"That is a celebrated lady," Count Valonne said. "You must look at her, Madame Loraine; she was one of the best dancers at the ballet, and last year she tried to commit suicide in a charmingly dramatic way at one of Gritzko's parties. She was at the time perhaps his chÈre amie—one never knows, but in all cases violently in love with him—and is still, for the matter of that—or so it is said—and in the middle of rather a wild feast he was giving for her, she suddenly drank off some poison, after making the terrifying announcement of her intention! We were all petrified with horror, but he remained quite calm, and, seizing her, he poured a whole bottle of salad oil down her throat, and then sent for a doctor!—Of course the poor lady recovered, and the romantic end was quite ratÉ!—She was perfectly furious, one heard—and married a rich slate merchant the week after. Wasn't it like Gritzko? He said the affair was vulgar, and he sent her a large diamond bracelet, and never spoke to her again!"

Tamara felt her cheeks burn—and her pride galled her more than ever. So she and the ex-dancer were in the same boat?—but she at least would not try to commit suicide and be restored by—salad oil!

"How perfectly ridiculous!" she said, with rather a bitter little laugh. "What complete bathos!"

"It was unfortunate, was it not?" Valonne went on, and he glanced at
Tamara sideways.

He guessed that she was interested in the Prince; but Valonne was a charming creature with an understanding eye, and in their set was in great request. He knew exactly the right thing to talk about to each different person, as a perfect diplomat should, and he was too tactful and sympathetic to tease poor Tamara. On the contrary, he told her casually that Gritzko had been on some duty these three days, in case she did not know it.

From the beginning Tamara always had liked Valonne.

Then into the box came the same good-looking Chevalier Garde, Count Varishkine, whom she had talked to on the last occasion of Gritzko's visit, and the spirit of hurt pride caused her to be most gracious with him. Meanwhile the Princess ArdÁcheff watched her with a faint sensation of uneasiness, and at last whispered to Stephen Strong:

"Does not my godchild seem to be developing new characteristics, Stephen? She is so very stately and quiet; and yet to-night it would almost seem she is being flirtatious with Boris Varishkine.—I trust we shall have no complications. What do you think?"

Mr. Strong laughed.

"It will depend upon how much it angers Gritzko. It could come to mean anything—bloodshed, a scandal, or merely bringing things to a crisis between them.—Let us hope, for the latter."

"Indeed, yes."

"You must remember, for an Englishwoman it would be very difficult to grasp all the possibilities in the character of Gritzko. We are not accustomed to these tempestuous headlong natures in our calm country."

"Fortunately Boris and Gritzko are very great friends."

"I never heard that the warmest friendship prevented jealousy between men," Stephen Strong said, a little cynically—he had suffered a good deal in his youth.

"I am delighted we are going to Moscow. There will be no Boris, and I shall arrange for my two children to be together as much as possible. I feel that is the surest way," the Princess answered; and they talked of other things.

After the ballet was over the party went on to supper at Cubat's in a private room, contrary to the Princess' custom. But it was Stephen Strong's entertainment, and he had no house to invite them to.

As they passed down the passage to their salon the door of another opened as a waiter came out, and loud laughter and clatter of glass burst forth, and above the din one shrill girl's treble screamed:

"Gritzko! Oh, Gritzko!"

The food nearly choked Tamara when they reached their room, and supper began. It was not, of course, a heinous crime for the Prince to be entertaining ladies of another world. But on the top of everything else it raised a wild revolt in her heart, and a raging disgust with herself. Never, never should she unbend to him again. She would not love him.

Alas! for the impotency of human wills! Only the demonstrations of love can be controlled, the emotion itself comes from heaven—or hell, and is omnipotent. Poor Tamara might as well have determined to keep the sun from rising as to keep herself from loving Gritzko.

She was quite aware that men—even the nicest men—like Jack and her brother Tom, sometimes went out with people she would not care to know; but to have the fact brought under her very observation disgusted her fine senses. To realize that the man she loved was at the moment perhaps kissing some ordinary woman, revolted and galled her immeasurably. But if she had known it this night, at least, the Prince was innocent. He had strolled into that room with some brother officers, and was not the giver of the feast. And a few minutes after Mr. Strong's party had begun their repast he opened the door.

"May I come in, Stephen?" he asked. "I heard you were all here, Serge saw you. I have just arrived from TsarskÖi, and must eat."

And of course he was warmly welcomed and pressed to take a seat, while Valonne chaffed him in an undertone about the joys he had precipitately left.

Tamara's face was the picture of disdain. But the Prince sat beside her godmother, apparently unconcerned. He did not trouble to address her specially, and before the end of supper, in spite of rage and disgust and anger—and shame, she was longing for him to talk to her.

The only consolation she had was once when they went out, as she looked up sweetly at Count Varishkine she caught a fierce expression stealing over Gritzko's face.

So even though he did not love her really he could still feel jealous; that was something, at all events!

Thus in these paltry rages and irritations, these two human beings passed the next three days—when their real souls were capable of something great.

Prince MilaslÁvski, to every one's surprise, appeared continuously in the world.

Tamara and the Princess met him everywhere, and while the Princess did her best to throw them together, Tamara maneuvered so that not once could he speak to her alone, while she was assiduously charming to every one else. Now it was old Prince Miklefski or Stephen Strong, now one of the husbands, or Jack, and just often enough to give things a zest she was bewitching to the handsome Chevalier Garde.

And the strange, fierce light in Gritzko's eyes did not decrease.

The night before the ArdÁcheff ball they were going to a reception at one of the Embassies for a foreign King and Queen, who were paying a visit to the Court, and Tamara dressed with unusual care, and fastened her high tiara in her soft brown hair.

The Prince should see her especially attractive, she thought.

But when they arrived at the great house and walked among the brilliant throng no Prince was to be seen!—It might be he had no intention to come.

Presently Tamara went off to the refreshment room with her friend
Valonne.

The conversation turned to Gritzko with an easy swing.

He seemed on the brink of one of his maddest fits. Valonne had seen him in the club just before dinner.

"If you really go to England I think he will follow you, Madame," he said.

"How ridiculous!" and Tamara laughed. "How can it make a difference to him whether I go or no? We do not exist for one another," and she fanned herself rather rapidly, while Valonne smiled a fine smile.

"I should not be quite sure of that," he said. "If I might predict, I should say you will be lucky if you get away from here without being the cause of a duel of some sort."

"A duel!" Tamara was startled. "How dreadful, and how silly! But why? I thought dueling had quite gone out in all civilized countries; and in any case, why fight about me? And who should fight? Surely you are only teasing me, Count Valonne."

"Duels are real facts here, I am afraid," he said. "Gritzko has already engaged in two of them. He is not quarrelsome, but just never permits any one to cross his wishes or interfere with his game."

"But what is his game? You speak as though it were some kind of cards or plot. What do you mean?" and Tamara, with heightened color, lifted her head.

"The game of Gritzko?" and Count Valonne laughed. "Frankly, I think he is very much in love with you, Madame," he said. "So by that you can guess what would be any man's game."

"You have a vivid imagination, and are talking perfect nonsense." Tamara laughed nervously. "I refuse to be the least upset by such ideas!"

At that moment up came Count Boris Varishkine, and after a while she went off with him to a sofa by the window, and there was seated in deep converse when the Prince came in.

He looked at them for a second and then made straight for the Princess
ArdÁcheff, who was just about to arrange her rubber of bridge.

"Tantine, I want to talk to you," he said.

And the Princess at once left the cardroom and returned with him. They found a quiet corner opposite Tamara and her Garde, and there sat down.

"Tantine, I brought you here to look over there.—What does that mean?"

The Princess put up her glasses to gain time.

"Nothing, dear boy. Tamara is merely amusing herself like all the rest of us at a party. Are you jealous, Gritzko?" she asked.

He looked at her sharply, and for a moment unconsciously fingered the dagger in his belt.

"Yes, I believe I am jealous. I am not at all sure that I do not love your charming friend," he said.

"Well, why don't you marry her then?" suggested the Princess.

"Perhaps I shall—if she does not drive me to doing something mad first. I don't know what I intend. It may be to go off to the Caucasus, or to stay and make her love me so deeply that she will forgive me—no matter what I do."

He paused a moment, and his great eyes filled with mist, and then the wild light grew.

"If ever she becomes my Princess, she shall be entirely for me. I will not let her have a look or thought for any other man. All must be mine—unshared, and then she shall be my queen."

Princess ArdÁcheff leant back and looked at him. He was in his blue uniform with the scarlet underdress; and even she—old woman and fond friend—could not help picturing the gorgeous joy such a fate would give—to have him for a lover! to see his fierce, proud head bent in devotion, to feel his tender caress. Tamara must be an unutterable fool if she should hesitate.

But what he had said was not reassuring in its prospect of calm. She felt she must put in some small word of admonition.

"You will be careful won't you, Gritzko?" she ventured to suggest.
"Remember, Tamara is an Englishwoman, and not accustomed to your ways."

"It will depend upon herself," he said. "If she goes on teasing me I do not know what I shall do. If she does not—"

"You will be good?"

"Possibly. But one thing, Tantine, I will not be interfered with either by her friend the Englishman or Boris Varishkine."

At this moment Tamara looked up and caught the two pairs of eyes fixed upon her. And into her spirit flowed a devilment.—Duels! They were all nonsense. She should certainly play a little with her new friend.

In her whole life before she came to Russia she had never been really flirtatious. She was in no way a coquette, rather a simple creature who recked little of men. But the simplest woman develops feline qualities under certain provocation; and her pride was deeply hurt.

Count Boris Varishkine asked nothing better than to fall in with her views. He was, however, like most of his countrymen, sincere, and not merely passing the time.

Jack Courtray came up, too, and joined them, his Countess Olga had sent him temporarily from her side. And Tamara scintillated and sparkled as she talked to them both in a way which surprised herself.

This society was very diplomatic, and it amused her to watch the representatives of the different nations—the English and the Russians standing out as so much the finest men.

Presently the little group was joined by Stephen Strong.

"Isn't this an amusing party, Mrs. Loraine?" he said.

"Yes," said Tamara. "And I am beginning to be able to place the members of the different countries. Don't you think the Russians look much the most like us, Mr. Strong?"

"The Russians, dear lady? When you have traveled a little more you will see that term covers half the types of the earth—but I agree. What we see here in Petersburg are very much like us—a trifling difference in the way the eyes are set, and the way the hair is brushed; and, given the same uniforms, half these smart young men might be our English Guards."

"We do not resemble you in character, though," said Count Varishkine. "You can feel just what you like, or not at all, whereas we are storm-tossed, and have not yet learnt the arts of pretence."

"We're a deuced cold-blooded race, aren't we, Tamara?" Jack Courtray said, and he grinned his happy grin.

The little party looked so merry and content Princess ArdÁcheff hardly liked to disturb them, but was impelled to by a look in Gritzko's face.

"Tamara, dear," she said, as she joined them, "I am so very tired after last night, for once shall we go home reasonably early?"

And Tamara rose gladly to her feet.

"Of course, Marraine, I too am dropping with fatigue," she said.

The Prince spoke a few words to Stephen Strong, and Jack joined in; so that the three were a pace or so to one side when the two ladies wished them goodnight.

"Come and see me early tomorrow, Jack," Tamara said. "I want to show you Tom's letter from home," and she looked up with an alluring smile, feeling the Prince was watching her; then, turning to Count Boris, "I am sure you will regret your bargain in having asked me to dance the Mazurka tomorrow night," she said. "I do not know a single figure or a step—but I hope we shall have some fun. I am looking forward to it."

"More than fun!" the young man said, with devotion, as he kissed her hand.

Then they walked to say goodnight to the hostess, and Gritzko seemed to disappear. But when they got down into the hall they saw him already in his furs.

The Princess' footman began to hand Tamara her snowboots and cloak, but Gritzko almost snatched them from the man's hand. She made no protest, but let him help her to put them on and wrap her up, while her godmother thought it advisable to walk toward the door.

"Tonight was your moment, Madame," he said, in a low voice. "But the gods are often kind to me, and my hour will come!"

Tamara summoned everything she knew of provokingness into her face as she looked up and answered:

"Tant pis! et bon soir! Monsieur le dÉmon de Lermontoff!"

Then she felt it prudent to run quickly after the Princess and get into the automobile!