His Hour

Tamara buried her face in her pillows, she was too English to be

dramatic and sob; but when she spoke her soft voice trembled a little

and her eyes glistened with tears.

"He is horribly cruel, Marraine," she said.

"Why should he treat me as he does. I won't--I won't bear it."

The Princess sighed.

"Tamara, forgive me for asking you, but I must, I feel I must. Do you--

love him, child?"

Then passion flamed up in Tamara's white face, her secret was her own,

and she would defend it even from this kind friend--so--"I believe I

hate him!" she said.

After a while the Princess left her, they having come to the agreement

that Tamara should do all that she could to keep the peace; but when

she was alone she decided to speak to Gritzko as little as possible

herself, and to ignore him completely. There would be no Boris and no

one to make him jealous. She would occupy herself with Stephen Strong,

and the sight-seeing, and even Sonia's husband, who was a bore and old,

too; but the prospect held out no charms for her. She knew that she

loved him deeply--this wild, fierce Gritzko--more deeply than ever

today, and the tears, one after another, trickled down her pale cheeks.

If there was not a chance of any happiness, at least she must go home

keeping some rag of self-respect. She firmly determined that he should

not see the slightest feeling on her side, it should be restrained or

perhaps capricious even, as his own.

Their train for Moscow started at nine o'clock, and the whole party had

arranged to dine at the Ardácheff house at seven and then go to the

station.

Nothing of the scandal of the night seemed to have transpired, for no

one even hinted at anything about it.

Gritzko was still very pale, but appeared none the worse, and the

atmosphere seemed to have resumed a peaceful note.

The five sleeping compartments reserved for this party of ten were all

in a row in one carriage, and Tamara and the Princess, on the plea of

fatigue, immediately retired to their berths for the night, Tamara not

having addressed a single direct word to Gritzko. So far, so well. But

when she was comfortably tucked into the top berth, and an hour or so

later was just falling off to sleep, he knocked at the door, and the

Princess believing it to be the ticket-collector opened it, and he put

his head in. The shade was drawn over the lamp and the compartment was

in a blue gloom. Tamara was startled by hearing her godmother say: "Gritzko! Thou! What do you want, dear boy, disturbing us like this?"