turn.

"Prince Milaslávski," and she heard one of his friends call him
"Gritzko." The name fell pleasantly on her ears--"Gritzko"! Why was he
such a wretch as to humiliate her so? She felt horribly small. She
ought never to have let him speak to her at the Sphinx. She was being
thoroughly punished for her unconventionality now!

She said a few words in French to each of the others, and then, as he
still stood there with that provoking smile in his splendid eyes, she
turned away almost biting her lip with shame and rage.

Before she knew it she was dancing with a fierce count in green and
silver. Their conversation was interesting.

"You are here since long, Madame?"

"No, Monsieur, only a few weeks, and I go to-morrow."

"Ah! you dance beautifully!"

"Do I? I am glad----"

The Russian Count held her very tightly, and they stopped quite out of
breath, where the screened windows half-hid the poor ladies of the
harem, who watched the throng from their safe retreat.

The Count bowed--and Tamara bowed. A section, not the whole dance, was
evidently the Russian custom.