And Tamara's interest in him, in spite of her shocked contempt, did not
decrease.

And so the time went on.

She was gradually growing to know the society better, and to get a peep
at the national point of view. They were a wonderfully uncomplex
people, with the perfect ease which only those at the bottom of the
social ladder who have not started to climb at all, and those who have
reached the top, like these, can have. They were casually friendly when
the strangers pleased them, and completely unimpressed with their
intrinsic worth if they did not. They seemed to see in a moment the
shades in people, and only to select the best. And when Tamara came to
talk seriously with even the most apparently frivolous, she found they
all had the same trace of vague melancholy and mystery, as though they
were grasping in the dark for something spiritual they wished to seize.
Their views and boundaries of principles in action seemed to be
limitless, just as their vast country seems to have no landmarks for
miles. One could imagine the unexpected happening in any of their
lives. And the charm and fascination of them continued to increase.

It was late one afternoon when Prince Milaslávski again came
prominently into view on Tamara's horizon.

She was sitting alone reading in the blue salon when he walked
unceremoniously in.

"Give me some tea, Madame," he said. "The Princess met me in the hall,
and told me I should find you here; so now let us begin by this."