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"You mean 'The Demon' of Lermontoff, probably, Millicent, don't you?" Tamara said. "A friend of my mother's translated it into English, and I have known it since I was a child. I think it must be very fine in the original," 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.
"Really, I don't know ... I would like to do it as soon as possible ... if possible, to-day." "Hm ... To-day ... I don't vouch for it we will hardly manage it ... But here is my memorandum book. Well, take even this page, where are my friends under the letter T just write the very same way: Tamara, and your address. In two hours I will give you an answer. Does that suit you?
He is a most respectful, modest, unassuming young man. I am sure he would be dreadfully uncomfortable if he were aware we had seen him so." "I think he looked better like that than he does now," Tamara rejoined, spitefully. "Did you ever see such clothes?" Mrs. Hardcastle whisked right round in her chair and stared at her friend.
The Prince had been leaning on the mantlepiece without speaking for some moments, listening to Tamara's conversation, but now he joined in, and sinking into a chair beside her, answered from there. "Thirty versts, Tantine we shall go in troikas but you must send your servants on the night before." Then he turned to Tamara, who seemed wonderfully absorbed, almost whispering to Stephen Strong.
Tamara laughed. For the first time it was she who held the reins. "Even to the wrappings," and she gently kicked out the soft gray folds of her skirt. He took a step nearer her, and then he stood still, and while the fierceness remained in his face, his eyes were full of pain. She glanced up at him, and over her came almost a sense of indignation that he should so unworthily pass his time.
And, leaning on the marble balustrade 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.
Tamara was gay and charming, and laughed with Stephen Strong and the captain in quite an unusual way for her. They both thought her an adorable woman. Poor Tamara! and so she really was. About tea-time Prince Milaslávski turned up again. "He is all right now," he said, sure that his listeners were in perfect sympathy with him. "It was those fools down there.
All that was left to be done was to appeal to Tamara, and each in turn, and both together, the father and mother begged and commanded their runaway child to return to her home. But Tamara was as obstinate as could be. "No, I want to stay here," she said, "these good boys love me, and they will break their hearts when I leave them. You would not have me make them so unhappy, would you?
"Yes," again said Tamara, convulsed with wonder at herself for speaking at all. "At first I was angry when I saw your camel against the sky and saw you come and dismount and sit and look, I like to have her all to myself. But afterwards when I watched you I saw you meant no harm you aren't a tourist, and so you did not matter."
When he once stammered out something about a separate apartment and other conveniences, she looked him in the eyes so intently, haughtily, and sternly, that he, like a boy, turned red in his picturesque gray hairs, and kissed her hands, babbling incoherent apologies. So did Tamara play with him, and feel the ground more and more under her.
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