His Hour | Page 8

to her eyes and cheeks.
She went on dancing wildly.

The next time she was near the stranger was some half an hour later,
although not once was she able to banish the scarlet form from her view.
He did not dance. He talked now and then to his Prince, and then he
was presented to the official ladies, with the rest of the suite. He looked
bored.
Tamara would not ask his name, which she could have done with ease,
as every one was interested in the Russians and glad to talk about them.
She avoided the English group of bigwigs where they were standing,
and where she had her place--And when they passed the tall Cossack
again she turned upon him a witheringly unconscious glance.
However, this was not to continue the whole night, for presently she
was requested by one of the attachés to come and be presented to the
Grand Duke, and when she had made her curtsey the suite came up in
turn.
"Prince Milaslávski," and she heard one of his friends call him
"Gritzko." The name fell pleasantly on her ears--"Gritzko"! Why was
he such a wretch as to humiliate her so? She felt horribly small. She
ought never to have let him speak to her at the Sphinx. She was being
thoroughly punished for her unconventionality now!
She said a few words in French to each of the others, and then, as he
still stood there with that provoking smile in his splendid eyes, she
turned away almost biting her lip with shame and rage.
Before she knew it she was dancing with a fierce count in green and
silver. Their conversation was interesting.
"You are here since long, Madame?"
"No, Monsieur, only a few weeks, and I go to-morrow."
"Ah! you dance beautifully!"
"Do I? I am glad----"

The Russian Count held her very tightly, and they stopped quite out of
breath, where the screened windows half-hid the poor ladies of the
harem, who watched the throng from their safe retreat.
The Count bowed--and Tamara bowed. A section, not the whole dance,
was evidently the Russian custom.
Then a voice said close to her ear:
"May I, too, have the honor of a turn, Madame?" and she looked up
into the eyes of the Prince.
For a second she hesitated. Her first impulse was to scornfully say no,
but she quickly realized that would be undignified and absurd; so she
said yes, coldly, and let him place his arm about her. The band was
playing a particularly sensuous valse, which drove all young people
mad that year, and--if the Count had danced well--this man's
movements were heaven. Tamara did not speak a word. She purposely
did not look at him, but drooped her proud head so that the flashing
diamonds of her tiara were all he could have seen of her.
He put no special meaning into the way he held her; he just danced
divinely; but there was something in the creature himself of a perfectly
annoying attractiveness--or so it seemed to Tamara.
They at last paused for a moment, and then he spoke. He made not the
slightest allusion to the Sphinx incident. He spoke gravely of Cairo,
and the polo, and the races, and said that his Grand Duke had arrived
that day. He was not on his staff, but was indeed travelling in Egypt for
his own amusement and delectation, he said.
He had been there since November, it seemed, and had been up the Nile,
and had fortunately been able to secure a little bungalow at Mena,
where he could spend some hours of peace.
Then Tamara laughed. She remembered Millicent Hardcastle's
consternation over those unfortunate pyjamas. She wondered if
Millicent would realize that she--Tamara--was dancing with their

wearer now! When she laughed he put his arm around her once more
and began dancing. This time he held her rather closely, and suddenly
as she laughed again to herself provokingly, he clasped her tight.
"If you laugh like that I will kiss you--here in the room," he said.
Tamara stopped dead short. She blazed with anger.
"How dare you be so impertinent?" she said.
They were up in a corner; everyone's back was turned to them happily,
for in one second he had bent and kissed her neck. It was done with
such incredible swiftness and audacity that even had they been
observed it must only have looked as though he bent to pick up
something she had dropped. But the kiss burned into Tamara's flesh.
She could hardly keep the tears of outraged pride from her eyes.
"How dare you! How dare you!" she hissed. "Truly you are making me
ashamed of having let you speak to me last night!"
"Last night?" he said, while he forcibly drew her