Part 22 (1/2)
CHAPTER XIV
It was twenty-four hours later. The night of the Ardacheff ball had come. The glorious house made the background of a festive scene. The company waited all round the galleries for the arrival of the Grand Dukes and the foreign King and Queen.
And Tamara stood by her G.o.dmother's side at the top of the stairs, a strange excitement flooding her veins.
Since the night before they had heard nothing of the Prince. And as each guest came in view, past the splendid footmen grouped like statues on every six steps, both women watched with quickening pulses for one insouciant Cossack face.
The Royalties arrived in a gorgeous train, and yet neither Gritzko nor Count Varishkine.
It might mean nothing, but it was curious all the same. The opening _contre-danse_ was in full swing, and still they never came, and by the time of the second valse after it Tamara was a prey to a vague fear.
While the Princess' uneasiness grew more than vague.
Tamara could not enjoy herself. She talked at random, she made her partners continually promenade through the salons, and her eyes constantly scanned the doors.
The immense ballroom, quite two stories high, presented a brilliant sight with its stately decorations of the time of Alexander I. And all the magnificent jewels and uniforms, and the flowers. Somehow a riot of roses takes an extra charm when outside the thermometer measures zero.
And no one would have believed, looking at this dignified throng, that they could be the same people who could frolic wildly at a Bohemian supper.
There is a great deal in breeding, after all, and the knowledge of the fitness of things which follows in its train.
Tamara was valsing with Jack Courtray, and they stopped to look at the world.
”Are they not a wonderful people, Jack? Could anything be more decorous and dignified than they are tonight? And yet if you watch, in the _contre-danse_ their eyes have the same excited look as when we wildly capered after supper in Prince Milaslavski's house.”
”Which reminds me--why is he not here?” asked Jack.
”I wish I knew,” Tamara said. ”Jack, be a dear and go and forage about and get hold of Serge Grekoff, if you can see him, or Mr. Strong, or Sasha Basmanoff, or some one who might know--but it seems as if none of them are here.”
”As interested as that?” and Lord Courtray laughed. ”Well, my child, I'll do my best,” so he relinquished her for the next turn and left her with Valonne, who had just arrived.
”Apparently I shall have to go partnerless for the Mazurka,” Tamara carelessly said while she watched the Frenchman's face with the corner of her eye. ”I was engaged for it to Count Varishkine, and he has never turned up. I do wonder what has happened to him. Do you know?”
”I told you you would be lucky if you got away from here without some row of sorts, Madame,” and Valonne smiled enigmatically.
”What do you mean? Please tell me?” and Tamara turned pale.
”I mean nothing; only I fancy you will only see one of them tonight; which it will be is still on the cards.”
A cold, sick feeling came over Tamara.
”You are not insinuating that they have been fighting?” she asked, with a tremble in her voice which she could not control.
But Valonne rea.s.sured her.
”I am insinuating nothing,” he said, with a calm smile. ”Let us have one more turn before this charming valse stops.”
And, limp and nerveless, Tamara allowed herself to be whirled around the room; nor could she get anything further out of Valonne.
When it was over she sought in vain for her G.o.dmother or Jack or Stephen Strong. The Princess was engaged with the Royalties and could not be approached, and neither of the men were to be seen.