His Hour

And Tamara's interest in him, in spite of her shocked contempt, did not

decrease.

And so the time went on.

She was gradually growing to know the society better, and to get a peep

at the national point of view. They were a wonderfully uncomplex

people, with the perfect ease which only those at the bottom of the

social ladder who have not started to climb at all, and those who have

reached the top, like these, can have. They were casually friendly when

the strangers pleased them, and completely unimpressed with their

intrinsic worth if they did not. They seemed to see in a moment the

shades in people, and only to select the best. And when Tamara came to

talk seriously with even the most apparently frivolous, she found they

all had the same trace of vague melancholy and mystery, as though they

were grasping in the dark for something spiritual they wished to seize.

Their views and boundaries of principles in action seemed to be

limitless, just as their vast country seems to have no landmarks for

miles. One could imagine the unexpected happening in any of their

lives. And the charm and fascination of them continued to increase.

It was late one afternoon when Prince Milaslávski again came

prominently into view on Tamara's horizon.

She was sitting alone reading in the blue salon when he walked

unceremoniously in.

"Give me some tea, Madame," he said. "The Princess met me in the hall,

and told me I should find you here; so now let us begin by this."

Tamara poured it out and leaned back in the sofa below the beautiful

Falconet group, which made--and makes--the glory of the blue salon in

the Ardácheff House. She felt serene. These two weeks of unawakened

emotions and just pleasant entertainments since the day at Tsarsköi had

given her fresh poise.

"And what do you think of us by now, Madame?" he asked.

"I think you are a strange band," she said. "You are extremely

intellectual, you are brilliant, and yet in five minutes all

intelligence can fade out of your faces, and all interest from your

talks, and you fly to bridge."

"It is because we are primitive and unspoilt; this is our new toy, and

we must play with it; the excitement will wane, and a fresh one

come----" he paused and then went on in another tone-"You in England have many outlets for your supervitality--you cannot

judge of other nations who have not. You had a magnificent system of

government. It took you about eight hundred years to build up, and it

was the admiration of the world--and now you are allowing your

Socialists and ignorant plebeian place hunters to pull it all to pieces

and throw it away. That is more foolish surely, than even to go crazy

over bridge!"