His Hour

As they passed down the passage to their salon the door of another

opened as a waiter came out, and loud laughter and clatter of glass

burst forth, and above the din one shrill girl's treble screamed: "Gritzko! Oh, Gritzko!"

The food nearly choked Tamara when they reached their room, and supper

began. It was not, of course, a heinous crime for the Prince to be

entertaining ladies of another world. But on the top of everything else

it raised a wild revolt in her heart, and a raging disgust with

herself. Never, never should she unbend to him again. She would

not love him.

Alas! for the impotency of human wills! Only the demonstrations of love

can be controlled, the emotion itself comes from heaven--or hell, and

is omnipotent. Poor Tamara might as well have determined to keep the

sun from rising as to keep herself from loving Gritzko.

She was quite aware that men--even the nicest men--like Jack and her

brother Tom, sometimes went out with people she would not care to know;

but to have the fact brought under her very observation disgusted her

fine senses. To realize that the man she loved was at the moment

perhaps kissing some ordinary woman, revolted and galled her

immeasurably. But if she had known it this night, at least, the Prince

was innocent. He had strolled into that room with some brother

officers, and was not the giver of the feast. And a few minutes after

Mr. Strong's party had begun their repast he opened the door.

"May I come in, Stephen?" he asked. "I heard you were all here, Serge

saw you. I have just arrived from Tsarsköi, and must eat."

And of course he was warmly welcomed and pressed to take a seat, while

Valonne chaffed him in an undertone about the joys he had precipitately

left.

Tamara's face was the picture of disdain. But the Prince sat beside her

godmother, apparently unconcerned. He did not trouble to address her

specially, and before the end of supper, in spite of rage and disgust

and anger--and shame, she was longing for him to talk to her.

The only consolation she had was once when they went out, as she looked

up sweetly at Count Varishkine she caught a fierce expression stealing

over Gritzko's face.

So even though he did not love her really he could still feel jealous;

that was something, at all events!

Thus in these paltry rages and irritations, these two human beings

passed the next three days--when their real souls were capable of

something great.

Prince Milaslávski, to every one's surprise, appeared continuously in

the world.