"Have you seen Gritzko since his return, Vera? One hears he has a wild
fit on and is at Milasláv with------" the rest of the words were almost
whispered. Tamara found herself unpleasantly on the alert--how
ridiculous, though, she thought--Gritzko!--there might be a dozen
Gritzkos in Petersburg.

"No, he returns tonight," Princess Ardácheff said; "but I never listen
to these tales, and as no matter what he does we all forgive him, and
let him fly back into our good graces as soon as he purses up that
handsome mouth of his--it is superfluous to make critiques upon his
conduct--it seems to me!"

The lady appeared to agree to this, for she laughed, and they talked of
other things, and soon all left.

And when they were gone--"Tonight I have one or two of my nicest
friends dining," the Princess said, "whom I wish you to know, so I
thought if you rested now you would not be too tired for a little
society," and she carried Tamara off to her warm comfortable bedroom,
an immense apartment in gorgeous Empire taste, and here was a great
bunch of roses to greet her, and her maid could be seen unpacking in
the anti-chamber beyond.

The company, ten or twelve of them, were all assembled when Tamara
reached one of the great salons, which opened from the galleries
surrounding the marble hall. She came in--a slender willowy creature,
with a gentle smile of contrition--was she late?

And then the presentations took place. What struck her first was that
dark or fair, fat-faced or thin, high foreheads or low, all the ladies