another great room.

"This is the ballroom," he said. "It is like all ballrooms, so we shall
not linger over that. I have two Rembrandts in my own apartment beyond
which it may interest you to see, and a few other relics of the past."

He was perfectly matter of fact, his manner had not a shade of
gallantry in it, and Tamara accepted this new situation and followed
him without a backward thought.

They seemed to go through several sheet-shrouded salons and came out
into a thoroughly comfortable room. Its general aspect of decoration
had a Byzantine look, and on the floor were several magnificent bear
skins, while around the walls low bookcases with quantities of books
stood. And above them many arms were crossed. Over the mantlepiece a
famous Rembrandt frowned, and another from the opposite wall. But it
was strange there were no photographs of dancers or actresses about as
Tamara would have thought.

The Prince talked intelligently. He seemed to know of such things as
pictures, and understood their technique. And if he had been an elderly
art critic he could not have been more aloof.

Presently Tamara noticed underneath the first picture there was hung a
quaint sword. Something in its shape and workmanship attracted her
attention, and she asked its history.

The Prince took it down and placed it in her hand.

"That sword belonged to a famous person," he said--"a Cossack--Stenko