the merest chance one small troupe of Alexandrian dancers, and two
performing bears. They made us laugh for three days, Serge, Sasha, and
the rest!"

"Gritzko, will you never learn wisdom," said one lady, the Princess
Shébanoff, plaintively, while the others all laughed. "Were they
pretty, and what were they like?" they asked.

"The bears?--little angels, especially Fatima,--and with the manners of
Princesses," and he bowed to an old lady who was surveying him severely
through her pince-nez, while she held her cards awry. "Which reminds me
we are failing in ours, Tantine, you have not presented me to the
English lady, who is, I perceive, a stranger."

During all this Tamara had sat cold and silent. She was angry with
herself that this man's entrance should cause her such emotion--or
rather commotion and sensation. Why should he make her feel nervous and
stupid, unsure of herself, and uncertain what to do. Invariably he
placed her at some disadvantage, and left the settling of their
relations to himself. Whereas all such regulations ought to have been
in her hands. Now she was without choice again, she could only bow
stiffly as her godmother said his name and her name, and Prince
Milaslávski took a chair by her side and began making politenesses as
though he were really a stranger.

Had she just arrived? Did she find Russia very cold? Was she going to
stay long? etc., etc.

To all of which Tamara answered in monosyllables, while two bright
spots of rose color burned in her cheeks.