She sat silent, staring in front of her, the strain of the evening was
beginning to tell. She hardly knew what he said, or she said, until
the Mazurka was at an end, all the impression it left with her was one
of tension and fear. Then the polonaise formed, and they went in to
supper.

Here they were soon seated next their own special friends, and Gritzko
seemed to throw off all restraint. He drank a great deal, and then
poured out a glass of brandy and mixed it with the champagne.

He had never been more brilliant, and kept the table in a roar, while
much of his conversation was addressed to Tatiane Shébanoff, who sat on
his left hand.

Tamara appeared as though she were turned into stone.

And so the night wore on. It was now four o'clock in the morning. The
company all went to the galleries again to watch the departure of the
King and Queen. 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.

She seemed unable to get near the Princess, she was always surrounded,
and when at last she did come upon her in deep converse with Valonne.