The Khedive's ball was a fairly fine sight, Tamara thought, but driving
through the streets took such a ridiculously long time, the crowd was
so great. The palace itself was, and probably is still, like all other
palaces that are decorated in that nondescript style of Third Empire
France--not a thing of beauty. But the levée uniforms of the officers
gave an air of brilliance contrasted with the civilians of the
Government of Egypt. Tamara thought their dress very ugly, it reminded
her of a clergyman's at a children's party, where he has been decorated
with caps and sham orders from the crackers to amuse the little guests.
It seemed strange to see the English faces beneath the fez. She and
Millicent Hardcastle walked about and talked to their friends. There
were many smart young gallants in the regiments then quartered in
Cairo, who enjoyed dancing with the slender, youthful widow with the
good jewels and pretty dress, and soon Tamara found herself whirling
with a gay hussar.
"Let us stop near the Royalties and look at the Russians," he said.
"You know, a Grand Duke arrived to-day, and must be here to-night."
They came to a standstill close to the little group surrounding the
Khedive, and amid the splendid uniforms of the Grand Duke's suite there
was one of scarlet, the like of which Tamara had never seen before.
Afterward she learned it was a Cossack of the Emperor's escort, but at
the moment it seemed like a gorgeous fancy dress. The high boots and
long, strangely graceful coat, cut with an Eastern hang, the white
under-dress, the way the loose scarlet sleeves fell at the wrist,
showing the white tight ones, the gold and silver trimmings and the
arms, stuck in the quaint belt, all pleased her eye extremely; and then
she recognized its wearer as the young man of the Sphinx.
How dress changes a person! she thought. He looked at ease now in this
gorgeous garment, and a very prince for a fairy tale. That accounted
for the dreadful gray flannel--he was a soldier and unaccustomed to
wearing ordinary clothes. She had heard that in foreign countries even
the officers wore their uniforms habitually; not as the English do,
merely as an irksome duty.
He did not appear to see her, but when she began dancing again, and
paused once more for breath, she was close to him as he stood some way
apart and alone.
Their eyes met. His had the same whimsical provoking smile in them
which angered and yet attracted her. He made no move to bow to her, nor
did he take any steps to be introduced. She burnt with annoyance.
"He might at least have been presented; it is too impertinent
otherwise!" she thought.
She knew she was looking her best: a fair, distinguished woman as young
and fresh as a girl. Hardly a man in the room was unconscious of her
presence. Anger lent an extra brightness to her eyes and cheeks. She
went on dancing wildly.
The next time she was near the stranger was some half an hour later,
although not once was she able to banish the scarlet form from her
view. He did not dance. He talked now and then to his Prince, and then
he was presented to the official ladies, with the rest of the suite. He
looked bored.
Tamara would not ask his name, which she could have done with ease, as
every one was interested in the Russians and glad to talk about them.
She avoided the English group of bigwigs where they were standing, and
where she had her place--And when they passed the tall Cossack again
she turned upon him a witheringly unconscious glance.
However, this was not to continue the whole night, for presently she
was requested by one of the attachés to come and be presented to the
Grand Duke, and when she had made her curtsey the suite came up in turn.
"Prince Milaslávski," and she heard one of his friends call him
"Gritzko." The name fell pleasantly on her ears--"Gritzko"! Why was he
such a wretch as to humiliate her so? She felt horribly small. She
ought never to have let him speak to her at the Sphinx. She was being
thoroughly punished for her unconventionality now!
She said a few words in French to each of the others, and then, as he
still stood there with that provoking smile in his splendid eyes, she
turned away almost biting her lip with shame and rage.
Before she knew it she was dancing with a fierce count in green and
silver. Their conversation was interesting.
"You are here since long, Madame?"
"No, Monsieur, only a few weeks, and I go to-morrow."
"Ah! you dance beautifully!"
"Do I? I am glad----"
The Russian Count held her very tightly, and they stopped quite out of
breath, where the screened windows half-hid the poor ladies of the
harem, who watched the throng from their safe retreat.
The Count bowed--and Tamara bowed. A section, not the whole dance, was
evidently the Russian custom.
Then a voice said close to her ear:
"May I, too, have the honor of a turn, Madame?" and she looked up into
the eyes of the Prince.
For a second she hesitated. Her first impulse was to scornfully say no,
but she quickly realized that would be undignified and absurd; so she
said yes, coldly, and let him place his arm about her. The band was
playing a particularly sensuous valse, which drove all young people mad
that year, and--if the Count had danced well--this man's movements were
heaven. Tamara did not speak a word. She purposely did not look at him,
but drooped her proud head so that the flashing diamonds of her tiara
were all he could have seen of her.
He put no special meaning into the way he held her; he just danced
divinely; but there was something in the creature himself of a
perfectly annoying attractiveness--or so it seemed to Tamara.
They at last paused for a moment, and then he spoke. He made not the
slightest allusion to the Sphinx incident. He spoke gravely of Cairo,
and the polo, and the races, and said that his Grand Duke had arrived
that day. He was not on his staff, but was indeed travelling in Egypt
for his own amusement and delectation, he said.
He had been there since November, it seemed, and had been up the Nile,
and had fortunately been able to secure a little bungalow at Mena,
where he could spend some hours of peace.
Then Tamara laughed. She remembered Millicent Hardcastle's
consternation over those unfortunate pyjamas. She wondered if Millicent
would realize that she--Tamara--was dancing with their wearer now! When
she laughed he put his arm around her once more and began dancing. This
time he held her rather closely, and suddenly as she laughed again to
herself provokingly, he clasped her tight.
"If you laugh like that I will kiss you--here in the room," he said.
Tamara stopped dead short. She blazed with anger.
"How dare you be so impertinent?" she said.
They were up in a corner; everyone's back was turned to them happily,
for in one second he had bent and kissed her neck. It was done with
such incredible swiftness and audacity that even had they been observed
it must only have looked as though he bent to pick up something she had
dropped. But the kiss burned into Tamara's flesh.
She could hardly keep the tears of outraged pride from her eyes.
"How dare you! How dare you!" she hissed. "Truly you are making me
ashamed of having let you speak to me last night!"
"Last night?" he said, while he forcibly drew her hand within his arm
and began walking toward the group of her friends. "Last night you were
afraid some should see me from the hotel, and to-night you dare me. Do
it once more and I will kiss your lips!"
Tamara went dead white; she felt as if the ground were sinking beneath
her feet; her knees trembled. In all her smooth, conventionally ordered
life she had never experienced such a strong emotion.
The Prince glanced at her, and the fierceness went out of his eyes. He
bowed gravely with the most courtly homage, and left her standing by
Millicent's side.
Then Tamara remembered she was a lady, and that tenue was expected of
her; so she turned to her friend gaily and said how she was enjoying
the ball; but her fine nostrils quivered at intervals for the rest of
the night.
"Thank God!" she said to herself, when a few hours later she got into
bed--"Thank God! we are going tomorrow. I shall never see him again,
and no one shall ever know."