of cooing love words in Russian and French, and rubbed his velvet
eyelids against her cheek, and every few seconds his lips would come to
meet her lips.

At last, when they had crossed the Troitzka bridge, he permitted her to
release herself, and only held her hands under the furs, because dawn
was breaking and they could be observed.

But when they turned into the wide Serguiefskaia, which seemed
deserted, he bent once more and this time with wildest passion he
seemed to draw her very soul through her lips.

Then ere she could speak, they drew up at the door, and he lifted her
out, and before the Suisse and the waiting footmen.

"Good-night, Madame--sleep well," he calmly said.

But Tamara, trembling with mad emotion, rushed quickly to her room.




CHAPTER XII


In life there comes sometimes a tidal wave in the ebb of which all old
landmarks are washed out. And so it was with Tamara. She had fallen
into bed half dead with fatigue and emotion, but when she woke the
sickly gray light of a Russian winter mid-day pouring into her room,
and saw her maid's stolid face, back rushed the events of the night,