major-domo and more footmen met them, and opened wide the doors of a
lofty room. It was full of fine pictures and objets d'art, and though
the furniture dated from the time of Alexander II., and even a little
earlier--when a flood of frightful taste pervaded all Europe--still the
stuffs and the colors were beautiful and rich, and time had softened
their crudity into a harmonious whole.

Be the decorations of a house what they will, it is the mistress of it
who gives the rooms their soul. If hers is vulgar, so will the rooms
be, even though Monsieur Nelson himself has but just designed them in
purest Louis XVI. But the worst of all are those which look as though
their owner constantly attended bazaars, and brought the superfluous
horrors she secured there back with her. Then there are vapid rooms,
and anaemic rooms, and fiddly, and messy rooms, and there are monuments
of wealth with no individuality at all.

Tamara felt all these _nuances_ directly, and she knew that here dwelt
a woman of natural refinement and a broad outlook.

She sank into an old-fashioned sofa, covered with silk a quarter of an
inch thick, and the atmosphere seemed to breathe life and completeness.

Tea and quantities of different little _bonnes bouches_ awaited them.
But if there was a samovar she did not recognize it as such; in fact,
she had seen nothing which many writers describe as "Russian."

The Princess talked on in a fashion of perfect simplicity and
directness. She told her that her friends would all welcome her and be
glad that an Englishwoman should really see their country, and find it
was not at all the grotesque place which fancy painted it.