Princess Ardácheff leant back and looked at him. He was in his blue
uniform with the scarlet underdress; and even she--old woman and fond
friend--could not help picturing the gorgeous joy such a fate would
give--to have him for a lover! to see his fierce, proud head bent in
devotion, to feel his tender caress. Tamara must be an unutterable fool
if she should hesitate.

But what he had said was not reassuring in its prospect of calm. She
felt she must put in some small word of admonition.

"You will be careful won't you, Gritzko?" she ventured to suggest.
"Remember, Tamara is an Englishwoman, and not accustomed to your ways."

"It will depend upon herself," he said. "If she goes on teasing me I do
not know what I shall do. If she does not--"

"You will be good?"

"Possibly. But one thing, Tantine, I will not be interfered with either
by her friend the Englishman or Boris Varishkine."

At this moment Tamara looked up and caught the two pairs of eyes fixed
upon her. And into her spirit flowed a devilment.--Duels! They were all
nonsense. She should certainly play a little with her new friend.

In her whole life before she came to Russia she had never been really
flirtatious. She was in no way a coquette, rather a simple creature who
recked little of men. But the simplest woman develops feline qualities
under certain provocation; and her pride was deeply hurt.