He came up behind her and sat down and began to talk nicely again--about the sights to be seen in the capital, and the interesting museums and collections of pictures and arms. Nothing could be more correct than his manner, and the bridge players who were within earshot smiled, while Countess Olga thought.

"Either Gritzko has just been making love to the Englishwoman, or he is immensely bored--The latter from his face."

CHAPTER VIII

The company stopped their game about a quarter to twelve, and tables and champagne and gla.s.ses were brought in, and hand in hand they made a circle and drank in the New Year.

Tamara took care to stand by Princess Ardacheff, but her host looked at her as he raised his gla.s.s. Then they descended to the hall, and were wrapped in their furs again to go to the cafe where the Bohemians were to sing.

Tamara and the Princess were already in the latter's coupe when Prince Milaslavski called out: "Tantine--! take me too--I am slim and can sit between you, and I want to arrive soon, I have sent my motor on with Serge and Valonne."

And without waiting he got in.

They had to sit very close, and Tamara became incensed with herself, because in spite of all her late rage with the Prince, she experienced a sensation which was disturbing and unknown. The magnetic personality of the man was so strong. He bent and whispered something to the Princess, and then as though sharing a secret, he leaned the other way, and whispered to Tamara, too. The words were nothing, only some ordinary nonsense, of which she took no heed. But as he spoke his lips touched her ear. A wild thrill ran through her, she almost trembled, so violent was the emotion the little seemingly accidental caress caused.

A feeling she had never realized in the whole of her life before. Why did he tease her so. Why did he always behave in this maddening manner!

and choose moments when she was defenseless and could make no move. Of one thing she was certain, if she should stay on in Russia she must come to some understanding with him if possible, and prevent any more of these ways--absolutely insulting to her self-respect.

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 pa.s.sages, 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 Gleboff 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 br.i.m.m.i.n.g gla.s.s 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 gla.s.ses 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 gla.s.s.

The toasting over, every one sat down, Prince Milaslavski 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 pa.s.sionate 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 Milaslavski'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! G.o.d! 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.