His Hour

The whole day of the sight-seeing passed with comparative smoothness,

Tamara persistently remained with Sonia's husband or Stephen Strong,

when any moment came that she should be alone with any man.

She was apparently indifferent to Gritzko,--considering that she was

throbbing with interest in his every movement and inwardly longing to

talk to him--she kept up the rôle she had set herself to play

very well. It was not an agreeable one, and but for the inward feverish

excitement she would have suffered much pain.

Gritzko for his part seemed whimsically indifferent for most of the

time, but once now and then the Princess, who watched things as the god

in the car, experienced a sense of uneasiness. And yet she could not

suggest any other line of conduct for Tamara to pursue. But on the

whole the day was a success.

The two young English guests had both been extremely interested in

what they saw. Stephen Strong was an old hand and knew it intimately,

and the whole party was so merry and gay. The snow fortunately had

held, and they rushed about in little sleighs seeing the quaint

buildings and picturesque streets and the churches with their bright

gilt domes. Moscow was really Russian, Prince Solentzeff-Zasiekin told

them, unlike Petersburg, which at a first glance might be Berlin or

Vienna, or anywhere else; but Moscow is like no other city in the

world.

"How extremely good you Russians must be," Tamara said. "The quantities

of churches you have, and everywhere the people seem so devout. Look at

them kissing that Ikon in the street! Such faith is beautiful to see."

"Our faith is our safeguard," her companion said. "When the people

become sufficiently educated to have doubts then, indeed, a sad day

will come."

"They have such grave patient faces, don't you think?" said Stephen

Strong. "It is not exactly a hopeless expression, it is more one of

resignation. Whenever I come here I feel of what use is strife, and

yet after a while they make one melancholy."

They were waiting by the house of the Romanoffs, for their guide to

open the door, and just then a batch of beggars passed, their wild hair

and terribly ragged sheepskins making them a queer gruesome sight. They

craved alms with the same patient smile with which they thanked when

money was given. Misery seemed to stalk about a good deal.

"How could a great family have lived in this tiny house?" Tamara asked.

"Really, people in olden times seem to have been able to double up

anywhere. Pray look at this bedroom and this ridiculous bed!"