His Hour Part 22

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.

The next half-hour was agony, in which, with a white face and fixed smile, Tamara played her part, and then just before the Mazurka was going to begin Gritzko came in.

It seemed as if her knees gave way under her for a moment, and she sat down in a seat. The relief was so great. Whatever had happened he at least was safe.

She watched him securing two chairs in the best place, and then he crossed over to where she sat by the door to the refreshment room.

"Bon soir, Madame," he said. "Will you take me as a subst.i.tute for your partner, Count Varishkine?" and he bowed with a courtly grace which seemed suited to the scene. "He is, I regret to say, slightly indisposed, and has asked me to crave your indulgence for him, and let me fill his place."

For a moment Tamara hesitated; she seemed to have lost the power of speech; she felt she must control her anxiety and curiosity, so at last she answered gravely:

"I am so very sorry! I hope it is nothing serious. He is so charming, Count Varishkine."

"Nothing serious. Shall we take our places? I have two chairs there not far from Olga and your friend," and the Prince prepared to lead the way. Tamara, now that the tension was over, almost thought she would refuse, but the great relief and joy she felt in his presence overcame her pride, and she meekly followed him across the room.

They pa.s.sed the Princess on the way, and as she apparently gave some laughing reply to the Amba.s.sador she was with, she hurriedly whispered in Tamara's ear:

"Pour l'amour de Dieu! Be careful with Gritzko tonight, my child."

When they were seated waiting for the dance to begin Tamara noticed that the Prince was very pale, and that his eyes, circled with blue shadows, seemed to flame.

The certainty grew upon her that some mysterious tragic thing had taken place; but, frightened by the Princess' words, she did not question him.

She hardly spoke, and he was silent, too. It seemed as though now he had gained his end and secured her as a partner it was all he meant to do.

Presently he turned to her and asked lazily:

"Have you been amused since the Moravian reception? How have you pa.s.sed the time? I have been at Tsarskoi again, and could not come to see Tantine."

"We have been quite happy, thanks, Prince," Tamara said. "Jack Courtray and I have spent the day studying the lovely things in the Hermitage.

We must see what we can before we both go home."

Gritzko looked at her.

"I like him--he is a good fellow--your friend," and then he added reflectively: "But if he spends too much time with you I hope the bears will eat him!"

This charitable wish was delivered in a grave, quiet voice, as though it had been a blessing.

"How horrible you are!" Tamara flashed. "Jack to be eaten by bears!

Poor dear old Jack! What has he done?"

"Nothing, I hope,--as yet; but time will tell. Now we must begin to dance."

And they rose, called to the center by the Master of the Ceremonies to a.s.sist in a figure.

While the Prince was doing his part she noticed his movements seemed languid and not full of his usual wild _entrain_, and her feeling of unease and dread of she knew not what increased.