The Prince was astonishingly good looking in his Cossack's uniform, and
his eyes had a laugh in them, but a shadow round as if bed had not seen
him for several nights.

His whole manner to Tamara was different from any shade it had formerly
worn. It was as if a courtly Russian were welcoming an honored guest
in his aunt's house.

He did not mock or tease, or announce startling truths; he was pleasant
and ordinary and serene.

He and the Princess Ardácheff were no real blood relations; the first
wife of her late husband had been his mother's sister, but the
tradition of aunt had gone on in the family and the Princess loved him
almost as a son. He had always called her "Tantine" as though she had
been his real aunt.

"What did you think of Gritzko Milaslávski, Tamara?" she asked, when
all the guests were gone, and the two had retired to Tamara's room. "He
is one of the dearest characters when you know him--but a terrible
tease."

"He seemed very pleasant," Tamara said blankly, while she picked up a
book. Even to speak of him caused her unease.

"He is not at all the type of an ordinary Russian," the Princess
continued. "He has traveled so much, he is so _fin_ there is almost a
French touch in him. I am afraid you will find our young men rather
dull as a rule. They are very hard worked at their military duties,