His Hour

Tamara and the Princess met him everywhere, and while the Princess did

her best to throw them together, Tamara maneuvered so that not once

could he speak to her alone, while she was assiduously charming to

every one else. Now it was old Prince Miklefski or Stephen Strong, now

one of the husbands, or Jack, and just often enough to give things a

zest she was bewitching to the handsome Chevalier Garde.

And the strange, fierce light in Gritzko's eyes did not decrease.

The night before the Ardácheff ball they were going to a reception at

one of the Embassies for a foreign King and Queen, who were paying a

visit to the Court, and Tamara dressed with unusual care, and fastened

her high tiara in her soft brown hair.

The Prince should see her especially attractive, she thought.

But when they arrived at the great house and walked among the brilliant

throng no Prince was to be seen!--It might be he had no intention to

come.

Presently Tamara went off to the refreshment room with her friend

Valonne.

The conversation turned to Gritzko with an easy swing.

He seemed on the brink of one of his maddest fits. Valonne had seen him

in the club just before dinner.

"If you really go to England I think he will follow you, Madame," he

said.

"How ridiculous!" and Tamara laughed. "How can it make a difference to

him whether I go or no? We do not exist for one another," and she

fanned herself rather rapidly, while Valonne smiled a fine smile.

"I should not be quite sure of that," he said. "If I might predict, I

should say you will be lucky if you get away from here without being

the cause of a duel of some sort."

"A duel!" Tamara was startled. "How dreadful, and how silly! But why? I

thought dueling had quite gone out in all civilized countries; and in

any case, why fight about me? And who should fight? Surely you are only

teasing me, Count Valonne."

"Duels are real facts here, I am afraid," he said. "Gritzko has already

engaged in two of them. He is not quarrelsome, but just never permits

any one to cross his wishes or interfere with his game."

"But what is his game? You speak as though it were some kind of

cards or plot. What do you mean?" and Tamara, with heightened color,

lifted her head.

"The game of Gritzko?" and Count Valonne laughed. "Frankly, I think he

is very much in love with you, Madame," he said. "So by that you can

guess what would be any man's game."