His Hour Part 23

Tamara was very popular, and was hardly left for a moment on her chair when the flower figures began, so their conversations were disjointed, and at last almost ceased, and unconsciously a stiff silence grew up between them, caused, if she had known it, on his side, by severe physical pain.

She was surprised that he handed all his flowers to her but did not ask her to dance, nor did he rise to seek any other woman. He just sat still, though presently, when magnificent red roses were brought in in a huge trophy, and Serge Grekoff was seen advancing with a sheaf of them to claim Tamara, he suddenly asked her to have a turn, and got up to begin.

She placed her hand on his arm, and she noticed he drew in his breath sharply and winced in the slightest degree. But when she asked him if something hurt him, and what it was, he only laughed and said he was well, and they must dance; so away they whirled.

A feverish anxiety and excitement convulsed Tamara. What in heaven's name had occurred?

When they had finished and were seated again she plucked up courage to ask him:

"Prince, I feel sure Count Varishkine is not really ill. Something has happened. Tell me what it is."

"I never intended you to dance the Mazurka with him," was all Gritzko said.

"And how have you prevented it?" Tamara asked, and grew pale to her lips.

"What does it matter to you?" he said. "Are you nervous about Boris?"

And now he turned and fully looked at her, and she was deeply moved by the expression in his face.

He was suffering extremely, she could distinguish that, but underneath the pain there was a wild triumph, too. Her whole being was wrung. Love and fear and solicitude, and, yes, rebellion also had its place. And at last she said:

"I am nervous, not for Count Varishkine, but for what you may have done."

He leaned back and laughed with almost his old irresponsible mirth.

"I can take care of my own deeds, thanks, Madame," he said.

And then anger rose in Tamara beyond sympathy for pain.

She sat silent, staring in front of her, the strain of the evening was beginning to tell. She hardly knew what he said, or she said, until the Mazurka was at an end, all the impression it left with her was one of tension and fear. Then the polonaise formed, and they went in to supper.

Here they were soon seated next their own special friends, and Gritzko seemed to throw off all restraint. He drank a great deal, and then poured out a gla.s.s of brandy and mixed it with the champagne.

He had never been more brilliant, and kept the table in a roar, while much of his conversation was addressed to Tatiane Shebanoff, who sat on his left hand.

Tamara appeared as though she were turned into stone.

And so the night wore on. It was now four o'clock in the morning. The company all went to the galleries again to watch the departure of the King and Queen. And, leaning on the marble bal.u.s.trade next the Prince, Tamara suddenly noticed a thin crimson stream trickle from under his sleeve to his glove.

He saw it, too, and with an impatient exclamation of annoyance he moved back and disappeared in the crowd. The rest of the ball for Tamara was a ghastly blank, although they kept it up with immense spirit until very late.

She seemed unable to get near the Princess, she was always surrounded, and when at last she did come upon her in deep converse with Valonne.

"Tamara, dear," she said, "you must be so dreadfully tired. Slip off to bed. They will go on until daylight," and there was something in her face which prevented any questions.

So, cold and sick with apprehension, poor Tamara crept to her room, and, dismissing her weary maid, sat and rocked herself over her fire.

What horrible thing had occurred?

What was the meaning of that thin stream of blood?

CHAPTER XV

Tamara and her G.o.dmother did not meet until nearly lunchtime next day.

A little before that meal the Princess came into her room. Tamara was still in bed, perfectly exhausted with the strain of the night. The Princess wore an anxious look of care, as she walked from the window to the dressing table and then back again. Finally she sat down and took up a glove which was lying on a cushion near.

"Tamara, you saw I talked last night with Valonne, and this morning I sent for Serge Grekoff, but he would not come, so I got Valonne again."

She paused an instant. "I was extremely worried last night about Gritzko. I dare say you were not to blame, dear, but--"

"Please tell me, Marraine," and poor Tamara sat up and pushed her hair back.

"It appears, as far at I can gather, they all dined at the Fontonka house--Boris Varishkine and Gritzko have always been great friends--and at the end of dinner--Valonne imagines, because no one is sure what took place between them at this stage--Gritzko, it is supposed, said to Boris in quite an amiable way that he did not wish him to dance the Mazurka with you, but to relinquish his right in his--Gritzko's--favor."

She paused again, and Tamara's eyes fixed themselves in fascinated fear on her face. The Princess, after smoothing out the glove in her hand with a nervous energy, went on:

"They had all had quite enough champagne, of course, and apparently Boris refused, and suggested that they should toss up, and whoever won the toss should have first shot in the dark."

"Yes," said Tamara faintly.

"You know, dear, our boys are often very wild, and they have a game they play when they are at the end of their tether for something to do when quartered in some hopeless outpost--a kind of blind-man's-buff--only it is all in the dark, and the blind man stands in the middle of the room and the rest clap hands and then dodge, and he fires his revolver at the point the sound seems to come from, and the object is not to get shot. You may have noticed Sasha Basmanoff has no left thumb? He lost it last year on just such a night."

"Oh! Marraine, how dreadful!" Tamara said.

"It is perhaps not a very civilized game," the Princess continued, "but we are not discussing that, I am telling you what occurred. Well, from this point Valonne and the rest were eyewitnesses. Gritzko and Boris, still laughing in rather a strained way, said they had some slight difference of opinion to settle, and had decided to do it in the ballroom, in the dark. I won't go into details of how many steps to the right or left, the impromptu seconds arranged, only it was settled when Sasha at one end and Serge at the other should shut the doors they should both fire, and if in three times neither was shot, both should give up their claim."

"It is too horrible! and for such a trifle," Tamara said, clutching the bedclothes, and the Princess went on.

"Valonne said they were both hit in the first round, and all the company burst into the room. Nothing seemed very serious, and they laughed and shook hands. So Valonne left to be in time for the ball, but this morning, he told me, he found Boris Varishkine had had a shoulder wound which bled very badly and quite prevented his coming, while Gritzko was shot through the flesh of the right arm, and as soon as they could bind it up decently, as you know, he came on."

Tamara's face was as white as her pillow. She clasped her hands with a movement of anguish.

"Oh! Marraine, I am too unhappy," she wailed. "Indeed, indeed, I did nothing to cause this. You heard me, I only said to Count Varishkine I was looking forward to the dance. He is impossible, Gritzko. Oh! let me go home!"

"Alas! my child, what would be the good of that? If you went off tonight instead of coming to Moscow, it might create a talk; what we want is to prevent a scandal, to hush everything up. None of these men will tell, and your name will not be dragged into it. And if we go on our trip amicably as was arranged it will discountenance rumor. Gritzko and Boris are quite friends again. And if anything about the shooting does leak out, if no one has further cause for connecting you with it, they will generally think it merely one of Gritzko's mad parties. For heaven's sake let it all blow over, and after Moscow and a reasonable time, not to appear too hurried, you shall go home."

"But meanwhile, how can I know that he won't shoot at Jack? or do some other awful thing! He does not love me really a bit, Marraine. It is all out of pride and devilment because he wants to win and conquer me and add me to his scalps, and I won't be conquered. I tell you I won't!" and Tamara clenched her hands.

The Princess did not know what to say, she was not perfectly sure in her own mind as to Gritzko's feelings, and she was too thoroughly acquainted with his ways to hazard any theory as to his possible acts.

She felt it might not be fair to a.s.sure her G.o.dchild that he truly loved her. She could only think of tiding over matters for the time being.

"Tamara, dearest, could you at least try to keep the peace on our trip?" she asked. "Be gentle with him, and do not excite him in any way."

Tamara buried her face in her pillows, she was too English to be dramatic and sob; but when she spoke her soft voice trembled a little and her eyes glistened with tears.