The lunch passed off with quiet reserve--there was no one present but
Stephen Strong. Tamara endeavored to behave naturally and answered
Gritzko whenever he spoke to her. He, too, played his part, but the
tone of things did not impose upon Stephen Strong.
As they were leaving the diningroom, on the plea of finding something,
Tamara went to her room, and Gritzko took his leave.
"I will fetch you for the French plays tonight, Tantine," he said, "and
probably will come back to tea--tell Tamara," and so he left, and the
two old friends were alone.
They stirred their coffee and then lit cigarettes--there was an awkward
silence for a moment, and then the Princess said:
"Stephen, I count upon you to help us all over this. I do not, and will
not, even guess what has happened, but of course something has. Only
tell me, do you think he loves her? I cannot bear the idea of Tamara's
being unhappy."
The old Englishman puffed rings of smoke.
"If she is prepared never to cross his will, but let him be absolute
master of her body and soul, while he makes continuous love to her, I
should think she will be the happiest woman in the world. She is madly
infatuated with him. She has been ever since we came from Egypt--I saw
the beginning on the boat--and I warned you, as you know, when I
thought he was only fooling."
"In Egypt!--they had met before then!" the Princess exclaimed,
surprised; "how like Gritzko to pretend he did not know her,--and be
introduced all over again! They had already quarreled, I suppose, and
that accounts for the cat and dog like tone there has always been
between them."
"Probably," said Stephen Strong; "but now I think we can leave it to
chance. You may be certain that to marry her is what he wishes most to
do,--or he would not have asked her."
"Not even if--he thought he ought to?"
"No--dear friend. No! I believe I know Gritzko even better than you do.
If there was a sense of obligation, and no desire in the case, he would
simply shoot her and himself, rather than submit to a fate against his
inclination. You may rest in peace about that. Whatever strain there is
between them, it is not of that sort. I believe he adores her in his
odd sort of way, just let them alone now and all will be well."
And greatly comforted the Princess was able to go out calling.
The news was received with every sort of emotion,--surprise, chagrin,
joy, excitement, speculation, and there were even those among them who
averred they had predicted this marriage all along.
"Fortunately we like her," Countess Olga said. "She is a good sort, and
perhaps she will keep Gritzko quiet, and he may be faithful to her."
But this idea was laughed to scorn, until Valonne joined in with his
understanding smile.
"I will make you a bet," he said; "in five years' time they will still
be love-birds. She will be the only one among this party who won't have
been divorced and have moved on to another husband."
"You horribly spiteful cat!" Princess Sonia laughed. "But I am sure we
all hope they will be happy."
Meanwhile Jack Courtray had come in at once to see Tamara.
"Well, upon my word! fancy you marrying a foreigner, old girl!" he
said; "but you have got just about the best chap I have ever met, and I
believe you'll be jolly happy."
And Tamara bent down so that he should not see the tears which gathered
in her eyes, while she answered softly, "Thank you very much, Jack; but
no one is ever sure of being happy."
And even though Lord Courtray's perceptions were rather thick he
wondered at her speech--it upset him.
"Look here, Tamara," he said, "don't you do it then if it is a chancy
sort of thing. Don't go and tie yourself up if you aren't sure you love
him."
Love him!--good God!--
Pent-up feeling overcame Tamara. She answered in a voice her old
playmate had never dreamed she possessed--so concentrated and full of
passion. In their English lives they were so accustomed to controlling
every feeling into a level commonplace that if they had had time to
think, both would have considered this outburst melodramatic.
"Jack," Tamara said, "you don't know what love is. I tell you I know
now--I love Gritzko so that I would rather be unhappy with him than
happy with any one else on earth. And if they ask you at home, say I
would not care if he were a Greek, or a Turk, or an African nigger, I
would follow him to perdition.--There!"--and she suddenly burst into
tears and buried her face in her hands.
Yes, it was true. In spite of shame and disgrace, and fear, she loved
him--passionately loved him.
Of course Jack, who was the kindest-hearted creature, at once put his
arm around her and took out his handkerchief and wiped her eyes, while
he said soothingly:
"I say, my child--there! there!--this will never do," and he continued
to pet and try to comfort her, but all she could reply was to ask him
to go, and to promise her not to say anything about her outburst of
tears to any one.
And, horribly distressed, Jack did what she wished, running against
Gritzko in the passage as he went out; but they had met before that
day, so he did not stop, but, nodding in his friendly way, passed down
the stairs.
Tamara sat where he had left her, the tears still trickling over her
cheeks, while she stared into the fire. The vision she saw there of her
future did not console her.
To be married to a man whom she knew she would daily grow to love
more--every moment of her time conscious that the tie was one of
sufferance, her pride and self respect in the dust--it was a miserable
picture.
Gritzko came in so quietly through the anteroom that, lost in her
troubled thoughts, she did not hear him until he was quite close. She
gave a little startled exclamation and then looked at him
defiantly--she was angry that he saw her tears.
His face went white and his voice grew hoarse with overmastering
emotion.
"What has happened between you and your friend, Madame? Tell me the
truth. No man should see you cry! Tell me everything, or I will kill
him."
And he stood there his eyes blazing.
Then Tamara rose and drew herself to her full height, while a flash of
her vanished pride returned to her mien, and with great haughtiness she
answered in a cold voice:
"I beg you to understand one thing, Prince, I will not be insulted by
suspicions and threats against my friends. Lord Courtray and I have
been brought up as brother and sister. We spoke of my home, which I may
never see again, and I told him what he was to say to them there when
they asked about me. If I have cried I am ashamed of my tears, and when
you speak and act as you have just done, it makes me ashamed of the
feeling which caused them."
He took a step nearer, he admired her courage.
"What was the feeling which caused them? Tell me, I must know,--" he
said; but as he spoke he chanced to notice she had replaced her wedding
ring, it shone below his glittering ruby.
"That I will not bear!" he exclaimed, and with almost violence he
seized her wrist and forcibly drew both rings from her finger, and then
replaced his own.
"There shall be no token of another! No gold band there but mine, and
until then, no jewel but this ruby!"
Then he dropped her hand and turning, threw the wedding ring with
passion in the fire!
Tamara made a step forward in protest, and then she stood petrified
while her eyes flashed with anger.
"Indeed, yes, I am ashamed I cried!" she said at last between her teeth.
He made some restless paces, he was very much moved.
"I must know--" he began. But at that moment the servants came in with
the tea, and Tamara seized the opportunity while they were settling the
tray to get nearer the door, and then fled from the room, leaving
Gritzko extremely disturbed.
What could she mean? He knew in his calmer moments he had not the least
cause to be jealous of Jack. What was the inference in her words? Two
weeks seemed a long time to wait before he could have all clouds
dispersed, all things explained--as she lay in his arms. And this
thought--to hold her in his arms--drove him wild. He felt inclined to
rush after her, to ask her to forgive him for his anger, to kiss and
caress her, to tell her he loved her madly and was jealous of even the
air she breathed until he should hear her say she loved him.
He went as far as to write a note.
"Madame," he began--He determined to keep to the severest formality or
he knew he would never be able to play his part until the end.--"I
regret my passion just now. The situation seemed peculiar as I came in.
I understand there was nothing for me to have been angry about,--please
forgive me. Rest now. I will come and fetch you at quarter to eight.
"Gritzko."
And as he went away he had it sent to her room.
And when Tamara read it the first gleam of comfort she had known since
the night at the hut illumined her thoughts. If he should love
her--after all!--But no, this could not be so; his behavior was not the
behavior of love. But in spite of the abiding undercurrent of
humiliation and shame, the situation was intensely exciting. She
feverishly looked forward to the evening. Her tears seemed to have
unlocked her heart--she was no longer numb. She was perfectly aware
that no matter what he had done she wildly loved him. He had taken
everything from her, dragged her down from her pedestal, but that last
remnant of self-respect she would keep. He should not know of this
crowning humiliation--that she still loved him. So her manner was like
ice when he came into the room, and the chill of it communicated itself
to him. They hardly spoke on the way to the Théâtre Michel, and when
they entered the box she pretended great interest in the stage, while,
between the acts, all their friends came in to give their
congratulations.
Tamara asked to be excused from going on to supper and the ball which
was taking place. And she kept close to her godmother while going out,
and so contrived that she did not say a word alone with Gritzko. It was
because he acquiesced fully in this line of conduct that she was able
to carry it through, otherwise he would not have permitted it for a
moment.
He realized from this night that the situation could only be made
possible if he saw her rarely and before people--alone with her, human
nature would be too strong. So with the most frigid courtesy and
ceremony between them the days wore on, and toward the beginning of the
following week Gritzko went off with Jack Courtray on the bear-hunt. He
could stand no more.
But after he was gone Tamara loathed the moments. She was overwrought
and overstrung. Harassed by the wailing and expostulations of her
family for what they termed her "rash act," worried by dressmakers and
dozens of letters to write, troubled always with the one dominating
fear, at last she collapsed and for two days lay really ill in a
darkened room.
Then Gritzko returned, and there were only five days before the
wedding. He had sent her flowers each morning as a lover should, and he
had loaded her with presents,--all of which she received in the same
crushed spirit. With the fixed idea in her brain that he was only
marrying her because as a gentleman he must, none of his gifts gave her
any pleasure. And he, with immense control of passion had played his
part, only his time of probation was illumined by the knowledge of
coming joy. Whereas poor Tamara, as the time wore on, lost all hope,
and grew daily paler and more fragile-looking.
Her father had a bad attack of the gout, and could not possibly move;
but her brother Tom and her sister, Lady Newbridge, and Millicent
Hardcastle were to arrive three days before the wedding.