"There is a type for you to study," Stephen Strong said. "Prince
Milaslávski. I have known him for many years, since he was a child
almost; he is about twenty-nine or thirty now, and really a rather
interesting personality."

"Yes," said Tamara, honestly, "I feel that. Tell me about him?"

Stephen Strong lit a cigar and puffed for a few seconds, then he
settled himself with the air of a person beginning a narrative.

"He came into his vast fortune rather too young, and lived rather
fiercely. His mother was a Basmanoff; that means a kind of Croesus in
Russia. He is a great favorite with the powers that be, and is in the
Cossacks of the Escort. Something in their wild freedom appealed to him
more than any other corps. He is a Cossack himself on the mother's side,
and the blood is all rather wild, you know."

Tamara looked as she felt--interested.

"They tell the most tremendous stories about him," the old man went on,
"hugely exaggerated, of course; but the fact remains, he is a
fascinating, restless, dauntless character."

"What sort of stories?" asked Tamara, timidly.

"Not all fit for your ears, gentle lady," laughed Stephen Strong.
"Sheer devilment, mostly. It was the amusement in the beginning to dare
him to anything, the maddest feats. He ran off with a nun once, it is
said, for a bet, and deposited her in the house of the man she had
loved before her vows were taken. That was in Poland. Then he has