His Hour Read online

  CHAPTER V

  On Monday they heard they would arrive at Brindisi on the Tuesdaymorning, and Tamara persuaded Mrs. Hardcastle to agree to disembarkingthere instead of going on to Trieste.

  "We shall be home all the sooner," she said. And so it was settled. Butthere was still all Monday to be got through.

  It was a perfect day, the blue Mediterranean was not belying its name.Tamara felt in great spirits, as she came on deck at about eleveno'clock, to find Millicent taking a vigorous walk round and round withthe Russian Prince. They seemed to be laughing and chattering like oldfriends. Again Tamara resented it.

  "He is only making fun of poor Millie," she thought, "who never sees athing," and she settled herself in her chair and let her eyes feast onthe blue sea----

  What should she do with her life? This taste of change and foreignskies had unsettled her. How could she return to Underwood and thehumdrum everyday existence there? She seemed to see it mapped out on aplain as one who stood on a mountain. She seemed to realize that alwaysthere had been dormant in her some difference from the others. Sheremembered now how often she perceived things that none of them saw,and she knew it was because of this that it had grown into a habit withher from early childhood to suppress the expression of her thoughts,and keep them to herself--until outwardly, at all events, she was ofthe same stolid mould as her family. The dears! they could not help it.

  But about one point she was determined. She would think and act forherself in future. Aunt Clara's frown should not prohibit any book orany action. The world should teach her what it could.

  Tamara had received a solid education; now she would profit by it, andinstead of letting all her knowledge lie like a bulb in a root-house,she would plant it and tend it, and would hope to see sweet flowersspringing forth.

  "Next summer I shall be twenty-five years old," she said to herself,"and the whole thing has been a waste."

  Each time the energetic promenaders passed her chair she heard a fewwords of their conversation, on hunting often, and the dogs, and thechildren, Bertie's cleverness, and Muriel's chickenpox, but always thePrince seemed interested and polite.

  Presently the old man, Stephen Strong, came up and took Mrs.Hardcastle's chair.

  "May I disturb your meditations?" he said. "You look so wise."

  "No, I am foolish," Tamara answered. "Now you who know the world mustcome and talk and teach me its meaning."

  He was rather a wonderful old man, Stephen Strong, purely English tolook at, and purely cosmopolitan in habits and life. He had been in thediplomatic service years ago, and had been in Egypt in the gorgeousIsmail time; then a fortune came his way, and he traveled the earthover. There were years spent in Vienna and Petersburg and Paris, andalways the early winter back in the land of the Sphinx.

  "The world," he said, as he arranged himself in the chair, "is anextremely pleasant place if one takes it as it is, and does not quarrelwith it. One must not be intolerant, and one must not be hypercritical.See it all and make allowances for the weakness of the human beings whoinhabit it."

  "Yes," said Tamara, "I know you are right; but so many of us belong toa tribe who think their point of view the only one. I do, for instance;that is why I say I am foolish."

  The walkers passed again.

  "There is a type for you to study," Stephen Strong said. "PrinceMilaslavski. I have known him for many years, since he was a childalmost; he is about twenty-nine or thirty now, and really a ratherinteresting personality."

  "Yes," said Tamara, honestly, "I feel that. Tell me about him?"

  Stephen Strong lit a cigar and puffed for a few seconds, then hesettled himself with the air of a person beginning a narrative.

  "He came into his vast fortune rather too young, and lived ratherfiercely. His mother was a Basmanoff; that means a kind of Croesus inRussia. He is a great favorite with the powers that be, and is in theCossacks of the Escort. Something in their wild freedom appealed to himmore than any other corps. He is a Cossack himself on the mother'sside, and the blood is all rather wild, you know."

  Tamara looked as she felt--interested.

  "They tell the most tremendous stories about him," the old man went on,"hugely exaggerated, of course; but the fact remains, he is afascinating, restless, dauntless character."

  "What sort of stories?" asked Tamara, timidly.

  "Not all fit for your ears, gentle lady," laughed Stephen Strong."Sheer devilment, mostly. It was the amusement in the beginning to darehim to anything, the maddest feats. He ran off with a nun once, it issaid, for a bet, and deposited her in the house of the man she hadloved before her vows were taken. That was in Poland. Then he hasorgies sometimes at his country place, when every one is mad for threedays on end. It causes terrible scandal. Then he comes back like alamb, and purrs to all the old ladies. They say he obeys neither Godnor the Devil--only the Emperor on this earth."

  "How dreadful!" force of habit made Tamara say, while her thoughtsunconsciously ran into interested fascination.

  "He is absolutely fearless, and as cool as an Englishman, and there arenot any mean things told about him, though," Stephen Strong continued,"and indeed sometimes he lives the simplest country life with hishorses and dogs, and his own people worship him, I believe. But thereis no wildest prank he is incapable of if his blood is up."

  "I think he looks like it," said Tamara. "Is it because he habituallywears uniform that his ordinary clothes fit so badly? To our eyes heseems dressed like some commis voyageur."

  "Of course," said Stephen Strong. "And even in Paris I don't supposeyou would approve of him in that respect, but if you could see him inPetersburg, then I believe you would be like all the rest."

  "All which rest?" asked Tamara.

  "Women. They simply adore him. Bohemians, great ladies, actresses,dancers, and----"

  He was just going to mention those of another world, when he feltTamara would hardly understand him, so he stopped short.

  Something in her rose up in arms.

  "It shows how foolish they are," she said.

  Stephen Strong glanced at her sideways, and if she could have read histhoughts they were:

  "This sweet Englishwoman is under Gritzko's spell already, and how sheis battling against it! She won't have a chance, though, if he makes uphis mind to win."

  But Tamara, for all her gentle features, was no weakling; only her lifehad been a long hibernation; and now the spring had come, and soon thetime of the finding of honey and a new life.

  "What can he be talking about to my friend, Mr. Strong?" she asked, asthe two passed again. "Millicent is one of the last women he can haveanything in common with; she would simply die of horror if she heardany of these stories--and he can't be interested in a word she says."

  "He always does the unexpected," and Stephen Strong laughed as he saidit. He himself was amused at this ill-matched pair.

  "Mrs. Hardcastle is agreeable to look at, too," he continued.

  Tamara smiled scornfully.

  "That is the lowest view to take. One should be above materialappearance."

  "Charming lady!" said Stephen Strong. "Yes, indeed you do not know theworld."

  Tamara was not angry. She looked at him and smiled, showing herbeautiful teeth.

  "Of course you think me a goose," she said, "but I warned you I wasone. Tell me, shall I ever grow out of it--tell me, you who know?"

  "If the teacher is young and handsome enough to make your heart beat,"said her old companion. And then Millicent and the Prince joined them.

  Mrs. Hardcastle's round blue eyes were flashing brightly, and her freshface was aglow with exercise and enjoyment.

  "Tamara dear, you are too incorrigibly lazy. Why do you sit hereinstead of taking exercise? and you have no idea of the interestingthings the Prince has been telling me. All about a Russian poetcalled--oh, I can't pronounce the name, but who wrote of a devil--notexactly Faust, you know, though something like it."

  Tamara noticed that amused, whimsical, mocking gleam in
the Cossack'sgreat eyes, but Millicent went gaily on, unconscious of anything butherself.

  "I mean those mythical, strange sort of devils who come to earth, youknow, and--and--make love to ladies--a sort of Satan like in MarieCorelli's lovely book. You remember, Tamara, the one you were so funnyabout, laughing when you read it."

  "You mean 'The Demon' of Lermontoff, probably, Millicent, don't you?"Tamara said. "A friend of my mother's translated it into English, and Ihave known it since I was a child. I think it must be very fine in theoriginal," and she looked at the Prince.

  In one moment his face became serious and sympathetic.

  "You know our great poet's work, then?" he said, surprised. "One wouldnot have thought it!"

  Then again Tamara's anger rose. There was always the insinuation in hisremarks, seemingly unconscious, and therefore the more irritating, thatshe was a commonplace fool.

  "Her name--the heroine's--is the same as my own," she said, gravely;but there was a challenge in her eyes.

  "Tamara!" he said. "Well--it could be--a devil might come your way, butyou would kneel and pray, and eat bonbons, and not listen to him."

  "It would depend upon the devil," she said.

  "Those who live the longest will see the most," and the Prince put backhis head and laughed with real enjoyment at his thoughts, just as hehad done when the two goats had butted at one another in the road.

  Tamara felt her cheeks blaze with rage, but she would not enter thelists, in spite of the late challenge in her eyes.

  Mr. Strong had vacated Millicent's chair and taken his own. The partysoon settled into their legitimate places, and Tamara again took up herbook.

  "No, don't read," the Prince said. "You get angry at once with me whenwe talk, and the red comes into your cheeks, and I like it."

  Exasperation was almost uncontrollable in Tamara. She remained silent,only the little ear next the Prince burned scarlet.

  "Some day you will come to Russia," he said, "and then you will learnmany things."

  "I have no desire to go there," said Tamara, lying frankly, as it hadalways been her great wish, and indeed her godmother, who never forgother, had often begged her to visit that northern clime; but Russia!--aswell have suggested the moon at Underwood.

  "It would freeze you, perhaps, or burn you--who can tell?" the Princesaid. "One would see when you got there. I have an old lady, a dearfriend, with white hair and a mole on her cheek--someone who seesstraight. She would be good for your education."

  Tamara thought it would be wiser not to show any further annoyance, soshe said lightly:

  "Yes, I am only sixteen, and have never left the schoolroom; it wouldbe delightful to be taught how to live."

  He turned and smiled at her.

  "You hardly look any more--twenty, perhaps, and--never kissed!"

  A memory rose up of a scorched neck, and suddenly Tamara's longeyelashes rested on her cheek.

  Then into his splendid eyes came a fierce, savage, passionate gleam,which she did not see, but dimly felt, and he said in a low voice alittle thick:

  "And--as--yet--never really kissed."

  "Milly," said Tamara, as calmly as she could, "what time do we get intoBrindisi to-morrow morning? And think of it, on Thursday night we shallbe at home."

  Home seemed so very safe!

  The Prince did not come in to luncheon, something was the matter withhis Arab horse, and he had gone to see to it just before--a concern onhis face as of the news of illness to his nearest kin.

  Tamara was gay and charming, and laughed with Stephen Strong and thecaptain in quite an unusual way for her. They both thought her anadorable woman. Poor Tamara! and so she really was.

  About tea-time Prince Milaslavski turned up again.

  "He is all right now," he said, sure that his listeners were in perfectsympathy with him. "It was those fools down there. I have made themsuffer, I can say," and then he turned to Stephen Strong. "Among thesteerage there is an Alexandrian gipsy troupe. I have ordered them upto sing to us to-night, since Madame wished it," and he turned uponMillicent an air of deep devotion.

  "Common ragged creatures, but one with some ankles and one with avoice. In any case, we must celebrate these ladies' last night."

  And thus the terrible present end to their acquaintance fell about!

  Nothing could have been more charming than the Prince was untildinner-time, and indeed through that meal, only he made Stephen Strongchange places with him, so that he might be next Mrs. Hardcastle, muchto that lady's delight.

  "He is really too fascinating," she said, as she came into Tamara'scabin to fetch her for the evening meal. "I hardly think Henry wouldlike his devotion to me. What do you think, dear?"

  "I am sure he would be awfully jealous, Milly darling; you really mustbe careful," Tamara said. And with a conscious air of complacentpleasantly tickled virtue Mrs. Hardcastle led the way to the saloon.

  It was not possible, Tamara thought, that anything so terriblyunpleasant as the Prince's having too much champagne at dinner, couldhave accounted for his simply scandalous behavior after; and yet surelythat would have been the kindest thing to say. But, no, it was not that.

  This was, in brief, the scene which was enacted on the upper deck:

  With the permission of the captain, the gipsy troupe were brought, andbegan their performance, tame enough at the commencement until thePrince gave orders for them to be supplied with unlimited champagne,and then the wildest dancing began. They writhed and gesticulated andundulated in a manner which made Millicent cling on to her chair, growcrimson in the face, and finally start to her feet.

  But the worst happened when the Prince rose and, taking a tambourine,began, with a weird shriek, to beat it wildly, his eyes ablaze and hislips apart.

  Then, seizing the chief dancer and banging it upon her head, he heldhis arm about her heaving breast, as she turned to him with aserpentine movement of voluptuous delight.

  In a second he had caught hold of her, and had lifted and swung her farout over the dark blue waters, then, with a swirl to the side, held hersuspended in the air above the open deck below.

  "Ha, ha!" yelled the troupe, in frenzied pleasure, and, nimble as acat, one rough dark man rushed down the ladder and caught the hangingwoman in his arms. Then they all clapped and cheered and shrieked withjoy, while the Prince, putting his hands in his pockets, pulled outheaps of gold and flung it among them.

  "Back to hell, rats!" he shouted, laughing. "See, you have frightenedthe ladies. You should all be killed!"

  For Tamara and Millicent had risen, and with stately steps had quittedthe scene.

  It was all too terrible and too vulgarly melodramatic, Tamara thought,especially that touching of the woman and that flinging of the gold,the latter caused by the same barbaric instinct which made him throwthe silver in the Sheikh's village by the moonlit Sphinx, only this wasworse a thousandfold.

  The next morning the two ladies left the ship at Brindisi before eitherthe Prince or Stephen Strong was awake. Both were silent upon thesubject of the night before, until Millicent at last said when theywere in the train:

  "Tamara--you won't tell Henry or your family, will you, dear? Becausereally, last night he was so fascinating--but that dancing! I am sureyou feel, with me, we could have died of shame."