Books: His Hour
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Elinor Glyn >> His Hour
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So she shrunk back in her corner and gave no reply.
"Are you angry with me?" he whispered. "It was the shaking of the
automobile which caused me to come too near you. Forgive me, I will try
not to sin again,"--but as he spoke he repeated his offense!
Tamara clasped her hands together, tightly, and answered in the coldest
voice--
"I did not notice anything, Prince, it must be a guilty conscience
which causes you to apologize."
"In that case then all is well!" and he laughed softly.
The Princess now joined in the conversation.
"Gritzko, you must tell Mrs. Loraine how these gipsies are, and what
she will hear--she will think it otherwise so strange."
He turned to Tamara at once.
"They are a queer people who dwell in a clan. They sing like the
fiend--one hates it or loves it, but it gets on the nerves, and if a
man should fancy one of them, he must pay the chief, not the girl. Then
they are faithful and money won't tempt them away. But if the man makes
them jealous, they run a knife into his back."
"It sounds exciting at all events," Tamara said.
"It is an acquired taste, and if you have a particularly sensitive ear
the music will make you feel inclined to scream. It drives me mad."
"Gritzko," the Princess whispered to him. "You promise to be _sage_,
dear boy, do you not? Sometimes you alarm me when you go too far."
"Tantine!" and he kissed her hand. "Your words are law!"
"Alas! if that were only true," she said with a sigh.
"Tonight all shall be suited to the eleven thousand virgins!" and he
laughed. "Or shall I say suited to an English _grande dame_--which is
the same!"
They had crossed the Neva by now, and presently arrived at a building
with a gloomy looking door, and so to a dingy hall, in which a few
waiters were scurrying about. They seemed to go through endless shabby
passages, like those of a lunatic asylum, and finally arrived at a
large and empty room--empty so far as people were concerned--for at the
end there were sofas and a long narrow table, and a few smaller ones
with chairs.
The tables were already laid, with dishes of raw ham and salted almonds
and various _bonnes bouches_, while brilliant candelabra shone amidst
numerous bottles of champagne.
The company seemed to have forgotten the gloom that playing bridge had
brought over them, and were as gay again as one could wish, while
divesting themselves of their furs and snow-boots.
And soon Tamara found herself seated on the middle sofa behind the long
table, Count Gléboff on her right, and the French Secretary, Count
Valonne, at her left, while beyond him was Princess Sonia, and near by
all the rest.
Their host stood up in front, a brimming glass in his hand.
Then there filed in about twenty-five of the most unattractive
animal-looking females, dressed in ordinary hideous clothes, who all
took their seats on a row of chairs at the farther end. They wore no
national costume nor anything to attract the eye, but were simply
garbed as concierges or shop-girls might have been; and some were old,
gray-haired women, and one had even a swollen face tied up in a black
scarf! How could it be possible that any of these could be the "fancy"
of a man!
They were followed by about ten dark, beetle-browed males, who carried
guitars.
These were the famous Bohemians! Their appearance at all events was
disillusioning enough. Tamara's disappointment was immense.
But presently when they began to sing she realized that there was
something--something in their music--even though it was of an intense
unrest.
She found it was the custom for them to sing a weird chant song on the
name of each guest, and every one must drink to this guest's health,
all standing, and quaffing the glasses of champagne down at one
draught.
That they all remained sober at the end of the evening seemed to do
great credit to their heads, for Tamara, completely unaccustomed to the
smoke and the warm room, feared even to sip at her glass.
The toasting over, every one sat down, Prince Milaslávski and a Pole
being the only two in front of the table, and they with immense spirit
chaffed the company, and called the tunes.
The music was of the most wild, a queer metallic sound, and the airs
were full of unexpected harmonies and nerve-racking chords. It fired
the sense, in spite of the hideous singers.
They all sat there with perfectly immovable faces and entirely still
hands,--singing without gesticulations what were evidently passionate
love-songs! Nothing could have been more incongruous or grotesque!
But the fascination of it grew and grew. Every one of their ugly faces
remained printed on Tamara's brain. Long afterward she would see them
in dreams.
How little we yet know of the force of sounds! How little we know of
any of the great currents which affect the world and human life!
And music above any other art stirs the sense. Probably the Greek myth
of Orpheus and his lute was not a myth after all; perhaps Orpheus had
mastered the occult knowledge of this great power. Surely it would be
worth some learned scientist's while to investigate from a
psychological point of view how it is, and why it is, that certain
chords cause certain emotions, and give base or elevating visions to
human souls.
The music of these gipsies was of the devil, it seemed to Tamara, and
she was not surprised at the wild look in Prince Milaslávski's eyes,
for she herself--she, well brought up, conventionally crushed English
Tamara,--felt a strange quickening of the pulse.
After an hour or so of this music, two of the younger Bohemian women
began to dance, not in the least with the movements that had shocked
Mrs. Hardcastle in the Alexandrian troupe on the ship, but a foolish
valsing, while the shoulders rose and fell and quivered like the
flapping wings of some bird. The shoulders seemed the talented part,
not the body or hips.
And then about three o'clock the entire troupe filed out of the room
for refreshment and rest. The atmosphere was thick with smoke, and
heated to an incredible extent. Some one started to play the piano, and
every one began to dance a wild round--a mazurka, perhaps--and Tamara
found herself clasped tightly in the arms of her Prince.
She did not know the step, but they valsed to the tune, and all the
time he was whispering mad things in Russian in her ear. She could not
correct him, because she did not know what they might mean.
"Doushka," he said at last. "So you are awake; so it is not milk and
water after all in those pretty blue veins! God! I will teach you to
live!"
And Tamara was not angry; she felt nothing except an unreasoning
pleasure and exultation.
The amateur bandsman came to a stop, and another took his place; but
the spell fortunately was broken, and she could pull herself together
and return to sane ways.
"I am tired," she said, when the Prince would have gone on, "and I am
almost faint for want of air." So he opened a window and left her for a
moment in peace.
She danced again with the first man who asked her, going quickly from
one to another so as to avoid having to be too often held by the
Prince. But each time she felt his arm round her, back again would
steal the delicious mad thrill.
"I hope you are amusing yourself, dear child," her godmother said.
"This is a Russian scene; you would not see it in any other land."
And indeed Tamara was happy, in spite of her agitation and unrest.
She sat down now with Olga Gléboff, and they watched the others while
they took breath. The Prince was dancing with Princess Shébanoff, and
her charming face was turned up to him with an adoring smile.
"Poor Tatiane,--" Countess Olga said low to herself.
When the gipsies returned, their music grew wilder than ever, and some
of the solos seemed to touch responsive chords in Tamara's very bones.
The Prince sat next her on the sofa now, and every few moments he would
bend over to take an almond, or light a cigarette, so that he touched
her apparently without intention, but nevertheless with intent. And the
same new and intoxicating sensation would steal through her, and she
would draw her slender figure away and try to be stiff and severe, but
with no effect.
It was long after five o'clock before it was all done, and they began
to wrap up and say "Goodnight." And the troupe, bowing, went out to
another engagement they had.
"They sing all night and sleep in the day," Count Gléboff told Tamara,
as they descended the stairs. "At this time of the year they never see
daylight, only sometimes the dawn."
"Tantine," said the Prince, "order your motor to go back. I sent for my
troika, and it is here. We must show Madame Loraine what a sleigh feels
like."
And the Princess agreed.
Oh! the pleasure Tamara found when presently they were flying over the
snow, the side horses galloping with swift, sure feet. And under the
furs she and her godmother felt no cold, while Gritzko, this wild
Prince, sat facing them, his splendid eyes ablaze.
Presently they stopped and looked out on the Gulf of Finland and a vast
view. Above were countless stars and a young, rising moon.
It was striking seven as they went to their rooms.
Such was Tamara's first outing in this land of the North.
CHAPTER IX
Six days went past before Tamara again saw the Prince. Whether he was
busy or kept away because he wished to, she did not know--and would not
ask--but a piqued sensation gradually began to rise as she thought of
him.
"I must arrange for you to go to Tsarsköi-Sélo to see the ceremony of
the Emperor blessing the waters on the 6th of our January, Tamara," her
godmother said, a day or two after the Bohemian feast. "I have seen it
so often, and I do not wish to stand about in the cold, but Sonia's
husband is one of the aides-de-camp, and, as you know, she lives at
Tsarsköi. Olga is going out there, and will take you with her, and you
three can go on; it will interest you, I am sure."
And Tamara had gladly acquiesced.
Tsarsköi-Sélo, which they reached after half an hour's train, seemed
such a quaint place to her. Like some summer resort made up of wooden
villas, only now they were all covered with snow. She and Countess
Olga had gone together to Princess Sonia's house, and from there to the
palace grounds, where they followed snow-cleared paths to a sort of
little temple near the lake, where they were allowed to stand just
outside the line of Cossacks and watch for the coming procession.
The sky was heavy, and soon the snow began to fall intermittently in
big, fluffy flakes. This background of white showed up the brilliant
scarlet uniforms of the escort. Standing in long rows, they were an
imposing sight. And Tamara admired their attractive faces, many so much
more finely cut than the guards further on. They wore fierce beards,
and they all seemed to be extremely tall and slim, with waists which
would not have disgraced a girl. And, at the end of the line at the
corner where they stood, she suddenly saw the Prince. He was talking to
some other officers, and apparently did not see them. Tamara grew angry
with herself at finding how the very sight of him moved her. The
procession, soon seen advancing, was as a lesser interest, her whole
real concentration being upon one scarlet form.
From the time the signal was given that the Emperor had started from
the palace all the heads were bare--bare in a temperature many degrees
below freezing and in falling snow! It was the Prince who gave the word
of command, and while he stood at attention she watched his face. It
was severe and rigid, like the face of a statue. On duty he was
evidently a different creature from the wild Gritzko of gipsy suppers.
But there was no use arguing with herself--he attracted her in every
case.
Then the procession advanced, and she looked at it with growing
amazement. This wonderful nation! so full of superstition and yet of
common sense. It seemed astonishing that grown-up people should
seriously assist at this ceremony of sentiment.
First came the choir-boys with thick coats covering their scarlet
gowns; then a company of singing men; then the priests in their
magnificent robes of gold and silver, and then the Emperor, alone and
bareheaded. Afterward followed the Grand Dukes and the standard of
every guard regiment and finally all the aides-de-camps.
When the Emperor passed she glanced again at the Prince. The setness of
his face had given place to a look of devotion. There was evidently a
great love for his master in his strange soul. When the last figure had
moved beyond the little temple corner, the tension of all was relaxed,
and they stood at ease again, and Gritzko appeared to perceive the
party of ladies, and smiled.
"I am coming to get some hot coffee after lunch, Sonia," he called out.
"I promised Marie."
"Does it not give them cold?" Tamara asked, as she looked at the
Cossacks' almost shaven bare heads. "And they have no great-coats on!
What can they be made of, poor things?"
"They get accustomed to it, and it is not at all cold to-day,
fortunately," Countess Olga said. "They would have their furs on if it
were. Don't you think they are splendid men? I love to see them in
their scarlet; they only wear it on special occasions and when they are
with the Emperor, or at Court balls or birthdays. I am so glad you see
Gritzko in his."
Tamara did not say she had already seen the Prince in the scarlet coat;
none of her new friends were aware that they had met before in Egypt.
All this time the guns were firing, and soon the ceremony of dipping
the cross in the water was over, and the procession started back again.
It was the same as when it came, only the priests were wiping the cross
in a napkin, and presently all passed out of sight toward the palace,
and the three ladies walked quickly back to the waiting sleigh,
half-frozen with cold.
About ten minutes after they had finished lunch, and were sitting at
coffee in Princess Sonia's cosy salon--so fresh and charming and like
an English country house--they heard a good deal of noise in the
passage, and the Prince came in. He was followed by a sturdy boy of
eight, and carried in his arms a tiny girl, whose poor small body
looked wizened, while in her little arms she held a crutch.
"We met in the hall--my friend Marie and I," he said, as he bent to
kiss Princess Sonia's hand, and then the other two ladies', "and we
have a great deal to say to one another."
"These are my children, Mrs. Loraine," Princess Sonia said. "They were
coming down to see you; but now Gritzko has appeared we shall receive
no attention, I fear," and she laughed happily, while the little boy
came forward, and with beautiful manners kissed Tamara's hand.
"You are an English lady," he said, without the slightest accent. "Have
you a little boy, too?"
Tamara was obliged to own she had no children, which he seemed to think
very unfortunate.
"Marie always has to have her own way, but while she is with Gritzko
she is generally good," he announced.
"How splendidly you speak English!" Tamara said. "And only eight years
old! I suppose you can talk French, too, as well as Russian?"
"Naturally, of course," he replied, with fine contempt. "But I'll tell
you something--German I do very badly. We have a German governess, and
I hate her. Her mouth is too full of teeth."
"That certainly is a disadvantage," Tamara agreed.
"When Gritzko gets up with us he makes her in a fine rage! She
spluttered so at him last week the bottom row fell out. We were glad!"
Princess Sonia now interrupted: "What are you saying, Peter?" she
said. "Poor Fräulein! You know I shall have to forbid Gritzko from
going to tea with you. You are all so naughty when you get together!"
There was at once a fierce scream from the other side of the room.
"Maman! we will have Gritzko to tea! I love him!--Je l'aime!" and the
poor crippled tiny Marie nearly strangled her friend with a frantic
embrace.
"You see, Maman, we defy you!" the Prince said, when he could speak.
The little boy now joined his sister, and both soon shrieked with
laughter over some impossible tale which was being poured into their
ears; and Princess Sonia said softly to Tamara:
"He is too wonderful with children--Gritzko--when he happens to like
them--isn't he, Olga? All of ours simply adore him, and I can never
tell you of his goodness and gentleness to Marie last year when she had
her dreadful accident. The poor little one will be well some day, we
hope, and so I do not allow myself to be sad about it; but it was a
terrible grief."
Tamara looked her sympathy, while she murmured a few words. Princess
Sonia was such a sweet and charming lady.
More visitors now came in, and they all drank their coffee and tea, but
the Prince paid no attention to any one beyond casual greetings; he
continued his absorbing conversation with his small friends.
Tamara was surprised at this new side of him. It touched her. And he
was such a gloriously good-looking picture as he sat there in his
scarlet coat, while Marie played with the silver cartridges across his
breast, and Peter with his dagger.
When she and Countess Olga left to catch an early afternoon train he
came too. He had to be back in Petersburg, he said. Nothing could look
more desolate than the tracts of country seen from the train windows,
so near the capital and yet wild, uncultivated spaces, part almost like
a marsh. There seemed to be nothing living but the lonely soldiers who
guarded the Royal line a hundred yards or so off. It depressed Tamara
as she gazed out, and she unconsciously sighed, while a sad look came
into her eyes.
The Prince and Countess Olga and another officer, who had joined them,
were all chaffing gaily while they smoked their cigarettes, but Gritzko
appeared to be aware of everything that was passing, for he suddenly
bent over and whispered to Tamara:
"Madame, when you have been here long enough you will learn never to
see what you do not wish." Then he turned back to the others, and
laughed again.
What did he mean? she wondered. Were there many things then to which
one must shut one's eyes?
She now caught part of the conversation that was going on.
"But why won't you come, Gritzko?" Countess Olga was saying. "It will
be most amusing--and the prizes are lovely, Tatiane, who has seen them,
says."
"I?--to be glued to a bridge table for three solid evenings. Mon Dieu!"
the Prince cried. "Having to take what partner falls to one's lot! No
choice! My heavens! nothing would drag me. Whatever game I play in
life, I will select my lady myself."
"You _are_ tiresome!" Countess Olga said. When they got to the station
the Princess's coupé was waiting, as well as the Gléboff sleigh.
"Good-bye, and a thousand thanks for taking me," Tamara said, and they
waved as Countess Olga drove off. And then the Prince handed her into
the coupé and asked her if she would drop him on the way.
For some time after they were settled under the furs and rushing along,
he seemed very silent, and when Tamara ventured a few remarks he
answered mechanically. At last after a while:
"You are going to this bridge tournament at the Varishkine's, I
suppose?" he suddenly said. "It ought to be just your affair."
"Why my affair?" Tamara asked, annoyed. "I hate bridge."
"So you do. I forgot. But Tantine will take you, all the same. Perhaps,
if nothing more amusing turns up, I will drop in one night and see;
but--wheugh!" and he stretched himself and spread out his hands--"I
have been impossibly _sage_ for over a fortnight. I believe I must soon
break out."
"What does that mean, Prince--to 'break out'?"
"It means to throw off civilized things and be as mad as one is
inclined," and he smiled mockingly while some queer, restless spirit
dwelt in his eyes. "I always break out when things make me think, and
just now--in the train--when you looked at the sad country----"
"That made you think?" said Tamara, surprised.
"Well--never mind, good little angel. And now good-bye," and he kissed
her hand lightly and jumped out; they had arrived at his house.
Tamara drove on to the Serguiefskaia with a great desire to see him
again in her heart.
* * * * *
And so the days passed and the hours flew. Tamara had been in Russia
almost three weeks; and since the blessing of the waters the time had
been taken up with a continual round of small entertainments. The Court
mourning prevented as yet any great balls; but there were receptions,
and "bridges" and dinners, and night after night they saw the same
people, and Tamara got to know them fairly well. But after the
excursion to Tsarsköi-Sélo for several days she did not see the
Prince. His military duties took up his whole time, her godmother said.
And when at last he did come it was among a crowd, and there was no
possible chance of speech.
"This bores me," he announced when he found the room full of people,
and he left in ten minutes, and they did not see him again for a week,
when they met him at a dinner at the English Embassy.
Then he seemed cool and respectful and almost commonplace, and Tamara
felt none of the satisfaction she should have done from this changed
order of things.
At the bridge tournament he made no appearance whatever.
"Why do we see Prince Milaslávski so seldom when we go out, Marraine?"
she asked her godmother one day. "I thought all these people were his
intimate friends!"
"So they are, dear; but Gritzko is an odd creature," the Princess said.
"He asked me once if I thought he was an _imbécile_ or a performing
monkey, when I reproached him for not being at the balls. He only goes
out when he is so disposed. If some one person amuses him, or if he
suddenly wants to see us all. It is merely by fits and starts--always
from the point of view of if he feels inclined, never from the
observance of any social law, or from obligation."
"Why on earth do you put up with such manners?" Tamara exclaimed with
irritation.
"I do not know. We might not in any one else, but Gritzko is a
privileged person," the Princess said. "You can't imagine, of course,
dear, because you do not know him well enough, but he has ways and
_façons_ of coaxing. He will do the most outrageous things, and make me
very angry, and then he will come and put his head in my lap like a
child, and kiss my hands, and call me 'Tantine,' and, old woman as I
am, I cannot resist him. And if one is unhappy or ill, no one can be
more tender and devoted." Then she added dreamily:--"While as a lover I
should think he must be quite divine."
Tamara took another cup of tea and looked into the fire. She was
ashamed to show how this conversation interested her.
"Tatiane Shébanoff is madly in love with him, poor thing, and I do not
believe he has ever given her any real encouragement," the Princess
continued. "I have seen him come to a ball, and when all the young
women are longing for him to ask them to dance, he will go off with me,
or old Countess Nivenska, and sit talking half the night, apparently
unaware of any one else's presence."
"It seems he must be the most exasperating, tiresome person one has
ever heard of, Marraine," Tamara exclaimed. "He rides over you all, and
you cannot even be angry, and continually forgive him."
"But then he has his serious side," the Princess went on, eager to
defend her favorite. "He is now probably studying some deep military
problem all this time, and that is why we have not seen him,"--and then
noticing the scornful pose of Tamara's head she laughed. "Don't be so
contemptuous, dear child," she--said. "Perhaps you too will understand
some day."
"That is not very likely," Tamara said.
But alas! for the Princess' optimistic surmises as to the Prince's
occupations, a rumor spread toward the end of the week of the maddest
orgie which had taken place at the Fontonka house. It sounded like a
phantasmagoria in which unclothed dancers, and wild beasts, and
unheard-of feats seemed to float about. And the Princess sighed as she
refuted the gossip it caused.
"Oh, my poor Gritzko! if he might only even for a while remain in a
state of grace," she said.
And Tamara's interest in him, in spite of her shocked contempt, did not
decrease.
And so the time went on.
She was gradually growing to know the society better, and to get a peep
at the national point of view. They were a wonderfully uncomplex
people, with the perfect ease which only those at the bottom of the
social ladder who have not started to climb at all, and those who have
reached the top, like these, can have. They were casually friendly when
the strangers pleased them, and completely unimpressed with their
intrinsic worth if they did not. They seemed to see in a moment the
shades in people, and only to select the best. And when Tamara came to
talk seriously with even the most apparently frivolous, she found they
all had the same trace of vague melancholy and mystery, as though they
were grasping in the dark for something spiritual they wished to seize.
Their views and boundaries of principles in action seemed to be
limitless, just as their vast country seems to have no landmarks for
miles. One could imagine the unexpected happening in any of their
lives. And the charm and fascination of them continued to increase.
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