Part 5 (1/2)

As for his eyes, they were enormous, with broad full lids, mystical, pa.s.sionate, and yet unconcerned. Always they suggested something Eastern, though on the whole he was fair. Tamara's own soft brown hair was only a shade lighter than his.

She was not sure yet, but now thought his eyes were gray.

She could have asked him a number of questions she wanted answered, but she refrained. He suddenly turned and looked at her full in the face.

He had been gazing fixedly at the sea, and these movements of quickness were disconcerting, especially as Tamara found herself caught in the act of studying his features.

”What on earth made you go to the Sphinx?” he asked.

Anger rose in Tamara; the inference was not flattering, in his speech, or the tone in which he uttered it.

”To count the number of stones the creature is made of, of course,” she said. ”Those technical things are what one would go for at that time of night.”

And now her companion rippled with laughter, infectious, joyous laughter.

”Ah, you are not so stupid as I thought!” he said, frankly. ”You looked poetic and fine with that gauze scarf around your head sitting there--and then afterwards. Wheugh! It was like a pretty wax doll. I regretted having wasted the village on you. All that is full of meaning for me.”

Tamara was interested in spite of her will to remain reserved, although she resented the wax-doll part.

”Yes?”--he faltered.

”You can learn all the lessons you want in life from the Sphinx,” he went on. ”What paltry atoms you and I are, and how little we matter to anyone but ourselves! She is cruel, too, and does not hesitate to tear one in pieces if she wishes and she could make one ready to get drunk on blood.”

Tamara rounded her sweet eyes.

”Then the village there, full of men with the pa.s.sions of animals, living from father to son forever the same, wailing for a death, rejoicing at a birth, taking strong physical pleasure in their marriage rights and their women, and beating them when they are tired; but you are too civilized in your country to understand any of these things.”

Tamara was stirred; she felt she ought to be shocked.

Contrary to her determination, she asked a question:

”Then you are not civilized in yours?”

”Not nearly so badly,” he said. ”The primitive forces of life still give us emotions, when we are not wild; when we are then it is the jolliest h.e.l.l.”

Tamara was almost repulsed. How could one be so odd as this man? she thought. Was he a type, or was he mad, or just only most annoyingly attractive and different from any one else? She found herself thrilled.

Then with a subtle change he turned and almost tenderly wrapped the rug, which had blown a little down, more securely round her.

”You have such a small white face,” he said, the words a caress. ”One must see that you are warm and the naughty winds do not blow you away.”

Tamara s.h.i.+vered; she could not have told why.

After this the conversation became general.

Millicent joined in with her obvious remarks. The sea was much smoother; they would be able to eat some dinner; she had heard there was a gipsy troupe on board in the third-cla.s.s, and how nice it would be to have some music!

And something angered Tamara in the way the Prince a.s.sisted in all this, out-commonplacing her friend in commonplaces with the suavest politeness, while his grave face betrayed him not even by a twinkle in the eye. Only when he caught hers; then he laughed a sudden short laugh, and he whispered:

”What a perfect woman! everything in the right place. Heaven! at the best times she would do her knitting, and hand one a child every year!