His Hour

The scene at the ballet was most brilliant, as it is always on a Sunday

night. The great auditorium, with its blue silk-curtained boxes, the

mass of glittering uniforms, and the ladies in evening-dress, although

they were all in black, made a gay spectacle almost like a gala night.

Then it is so delightful to have one's eyes pleased with what is on the

stage and yet be able to talk.

But Tamara, as she sat and looked at it, was not enjoying herself. She

was overcome with a vague feeling of unrest. She hated having to admit

that the Prince was the cause of it. She could not look ahead; she was

full of fear. She knew now that when he was near her she experienced

certain emotion, that he absorbed far too much of her thoughts. He did

not really care for her probably, and if he did, how could one hope to

be happy with such a wild, fierce man? No, she must control herself;

she must conquer his influence over her, and if she could not she

could at least go away. England seemed very uninteresting and calm--and

safe!

Filled with these sage resolutions she tried to fix her eyes on the

stage, but unconsciously they continually strayed to a tall blue figure

which was seated in the front row of the stalls with a number of

officers of the Chevaliers Gardes. And when the curtain went down,--and

instead of the Prince joining them in the box, as she fully expected he

would do, he calmly leaned against the orchestra division and surveyed

the house with his glasses--she felt a sudden pang, and talked as best

she might to the many friends who thronged to pay the Princess court.

Gritzko did not even glance their way! he stood laughing with his

comrades, and it would have been impossible to imagine anything more

insouciant and attractive and provoking than the creature looked.

"No wonder Tatiane Shébanoff is in love with him--or that actress--or--

the rest!" Tamara thought.

And then a wave of rage swept over her. She at least would not give in

and join this throng! To be his plaything. She would be mistress of

herself and her thoughts!

But alas! all these emotions not unmixed with pique, spoilt the

ballet's second act!

For the interval after it, the two ladies got up and went into the

little ante-chamber beyond the box. Tamara was glad. There she could

not see what this annoying Prince would do.

What he did do was to open the door in a few minutes and saunter in. He

greeted Tamara with polite indifference, and having calmly displaced

Count Valonne, sat down by the Princess' side.