Part 20 (1/2)
”We cannot yet wear colors, but whites and grays and mauves--and won't it be a relief from all this black,” Princess Sonia said.
When they had all gone and Tamara was dressing for dinner, she felt decidedly less depressed. She had succeeded better than she had hoped.
She had contrived to outwit the Prince, when he had plainly shown his intention was to continue talking to her, she had turned from one to another, and finally sat down by a handsome Chevalier Garde. In companies she had a chance, but when they were alone!--however, that was simple, because she must arrange that they should never be alone.
CHAPTER XIII
It was perhaps a fortunate thing that for three days after this the Prince was kept at his military duties at Tsarskoi-Selo, and could not come to Petersburg, for he was in a mood that could easily mean mischief. Tamara also was inclined to take things in no docile spirit.
She felt very unhappy, underneath her gay exterior. It was not agreeable to her self-respect to realize she was fleeing from a place because she loved a man whose actions showed he did not entertain the same degree of feeling for her. No amount of attention from any other quite salved that ever-constant inward hurt.
She went often through strange moments. In the middle of a casual conversation suddenly back would come a wave of remembrance of the dawn drive in the troika, and she would actually quiver with physical emotion as the vivid recollection of the bliss of it would sweep over her.
Then she would clench her hands and determine more fiercely than ever to banish such memories. But with all her will, hardly for ten minutes at a time could she keep Gritzko from her thoughts. His influence over her was growing into an obsession.
She wondered why he did not come. She would not ask her G.o.dmother. The three days pa.s.sed in a feverish, gnawing unrest; and on the third evening they went to the ballet again.
Opposite them, in a box, a very dark young woman was seated. She had a hard, determined face, and she was well dressed, and not too covered with jewels.
”That is a celebrated lady,” Count Valonne said. ”You must look at her, Madame Loraine; she was one of the best dancers at the ballet, and last year she tried to commit suicide in a charmingly dramatic way at one of Gritzko's parties. She was at the time perhaps his _chere amie_--one never knows, but in all cases violently in love with him--and is still, for the matter of that--or so it is said--and in the middle of rather a wild feast he was giving for her, she suddenly drank off some poison, after making the terrifying announcement of her intention! We were all petrified with horror, but he remained quite calm, and, seizing her, he poured a whole bottle of salad oil down her throat, and then sent for a doctor!--Of course the poor lady recovered, and the romantic end was quite _rate!_--She was perfectly furious, one heard--and married a rich slate merchant the week after. Wasn't it like Gritzko? He said the affair was vulgar, and he sent her a large diamond bracelet, and never spoke to her again!”
Tamara felt her cheeks burn--and her pride galled her more than ever.
So she and the ex-dancer were in the same boat?--but she at least would not try to commit suicide and be restored by--salad oil!
”How perfectly ridiculous!” she said, with rather a bitter little laugh. ”What complete bathos!”
”It was unfortunate, was it not?” Valonne went on, and he glanced at Tamara sideways.
He guessed that she was interested in the Prince; but Valonne was a charming creature with an understanding eye, and in their set was in great request. He knew exactly the right thing to talk about to each different person, as a perfect diplomat should, and he was too tactful and sympathetic to tease poor Tamara. On the contrary, he told her casually that Gritzko had been on some duty these three days, in case she did not know it.
From the beginning Tamara always had liked Valonne.
Then into the box came the same good-looking Chevalier Garde, Count Varishkine, whom she had talked to on the last occasion of Gritzko's visit, and the spirit of hurt pride caused her to be most gracious with him. Meanwhile the Princess Ardacheff watched her with a faint sensation of uneasiness, and at last whispered to Stephen Strong:
”Does not my G.o.dchild seem to be developing new characteristics, Stephen? She is so very stately and quiet; and yet to-night it would almost seem she is being flirtatious with Boris Varishkine.--I trust we shall have no complications. What do you think?”
Mr. Strong laughed.
”It will depend upon how much it angers Gritzko. It could come to mean anything--bloodshed, a scandal, or merely bringing things to a crisis between them.--Let us hope, for the latter.”
”Indeed, yes.”
”You must remember, for an Englishwoman it would be very difficult to grasp all the possibilities in the character of Gritzko. We are not accustomed to these tempestuous headlong natures in our calm country.”
”Fortunately Boris and Gritzko are very great friends.”
”I never heard that the warmest friends.h.i.+p prevented jealousy between men,” Stephen Strong said, a little cynically--he had suffered a good deal in his youth.