Count Boris Varishkine asked nothing better than to fall in with her
views. He was, however, like most of his countrymen, sincere, and not
merely passing the time.

Jack Courtray came up, too, and joined them, his Countess Olga had sent
him temporarily from her side. And Tamara scintillated and sparkled as
she talked to them both in a way which surprised herself.

This society was very diplomatic, and it amused her to watch the
representatives of the different nations--the English and the Russians
standing out as so much the finest men.

Presently the little group was joined by Stephen Strong.

"Isn't this an amusing party, Mrs. Loraine?" he said.

"Yes," said Tamara. "And I am beginning to be able to place the members
of the different countries. Don't you think the Russians look much the
most like us, Mr. Strong?"

"The Russians, dear lady? When you have traveled a little more you will
see that term covers half the types of the earth--but I agree. What we
see here in Petersburg are very much like us--a trifling difference in
the way the eyes are set, and the way the hair is brushed; and, given
the same uniforms, half these smart young men might be our English
Guards."

"We do not resemble you in character, though," said Count Varishkine.
"You can feel just what you like, or not at all, whereas we are
storm-tossed, and have not yet learnt the arts of pretence."