For the second time in her life Tamara went dead white--he saw her pale
even to her lips. And since the moment was not yet, and since his mood
was not now to make her suffer, he bent over with contrition and asked
her to forgive him in a tender voice.
"Madame--I am only joking--but I am a brute," he said.
Tamara rose and walked to the bridge tables, furious with herself that
he could have seen his power over her, even though it were only to
cause rage.
He came up behind her and sat down and began to talk nicely again--
about the sights to be seen in the capital, and the interesting
museums and collections of pictures and arms. Nothing could be more
correct than his manner, and the bridge players who were within earshot
smiled, while Countess Olga thought.
"Either Gritzko has just been making love to the Englishwoman, or he is
immensely bored--The latter from his face."