His Hour

"It will depend upon herself," he said. "If she goes on teasing me I do

not know what I shall do. If she does not--"

"You will be good?"

"Possibly. But one thing, Tantine, I will not be interfered with either

by her friend the Englishman or Boris Varishkine."

At this moment Tamara looked up and caught the two pairs of eyes fixed

upon her. And into her spirit flowed a devilment.--Duels! They were all

nonsense. She should certainly play a little with her new friend.

In her whole life before she came to Russia she had never been really

flirtatious. She was in no way a coquette, rather a simple creature who

recked little of men. But the simplest woman develops feline qualities

under certain provocation; and her pride was deeply hurt.

Count Boris Varishkine asked nothing better than to fall in with her

views. He was, however, like most of his countrymen, sincere, and not

merely passing the time.

Jack Courtray came up, too, and joined them, his Countess Olga had sent

him temporarily from her side. And Tamara scintillated and sparkled as

she talked to them both in a way which surprised herself.

This society was very diplomatic, and it amused her to watch the

representatives of the different nations--the English and the Russians

standing out as so much the finest men.

Presently the little group was joined by Stephen Strong.

"Isn't this an amusing party, Mrs. Loraine?" he said.

"Yes," said Tamara. "And I am beginning to be able to place the members

of the different countries. Don't you think the Russians look much the

most like us, Mr. Strong?"

"The Russians, dear lady? When you have traveled a little more you will

see that term covers half the types of the earth--but I agree. What we

see here in Petersburg are very much like us--a trifling difference in

the way the eyes are set, and the way the hair is brushed; and, given

the same uniforms, half these smart young men might be our English

Guards."

"We do not resemble you in character, though," said Count Varishkine.

"You can feel just what you like, or not at all, whereas we are

storm-tossed, and have not yet learnt the arts of pretence."

"We're a deuced cold-blooded race, aren't we, Tamara?" Jack Courtray

said, and he grinned his happy grin.

The little party looked so merry and content Princess Ardácheff hardly

liked to disturb them, but was impelled to by a look in Gritzko's face.