His Hour

"No, don't read," the Prince said. "You get angry at once with me when

we talk, and the red comes into your cheeks, and I like it."

Exasperation was almost uncontrollable in Tamara. She remained silent,

only the little ear next the Prince burned scarlet.

"Some day you will come to Russia," he said, "and then you will learn

many things."

"I have no desire to go there," said Tamara, lying frankly, as it had

always been her great wish, and indeed her godmother, who never forgot

her, had often begged her to visit that northern clime; but Russia!--as

well have suggested the moon at Underwood.

"It would freeze you, perhaps, or burn you--who can tell?" the Prince

said. "One would see when you got there. I have an old lady, a dear

friend, with white hair and a mole on her cheek--someone who sees

straight. She would be good for your education."

Tamara thought it would be wiser not to show any further annoyance, so

she said lightly: "Yes, I am only sixteen, and have never left the schoolroom; it would

be delightful to be taught how to live."

He turned and smiled at her.

"You hardly look any more--twenty, perhaps, and--never kissed!"

A memory rose up of a scorched neck, and suddenly Tamara's long

eyelashes rested on her cheek.

Then into his splendid eyes came a fierce, savage, passionate gleam,

which she did not see, but dimly felt, and he said in a low voice a

little thick: "And--as--yet--never really kissed."

"Milly," said Tamara, as calmly as she could, "what time do we get into

Brindisi to-morrow morning? And think of it, on Thursday night we shall

be at home."

Home seemed so very safe!

The Prince did not come in to luncheon, something was the matter with

his Arab horse, and he had gone to see to it just before--a concern on

his face as of the news of illness to his nearest kin.

Tamara was gay and charming, and laughed with Stephen Strong and the

captain in quite an unusual way for her. They both thought her an

adorable woman. Poor Tamara! and so she really was.

About tea-time Prince Milaslávski turned up again.

"He is all right now," he said, sure that his listeners were in perfect

sympathy with him. "It was those fools down there. I have made them

suffer, I can say," and then he turned to Stephen Strong. "Among the

steerage there is an Alexandrian gipsy troupe. I have ordered them up

to sing to us to-night, since Madame wished it," and he turned upon

Millicent an air of deep devotion.