He was dressed in his blue and scarlet uniform, and was groomed with
even extra care, she noticed, as he advanced with none of his habitual
easy familiarity to greet her.
"I come to ask your consent to my marriage with your goddaughter,
Tantine," he said, with grave courtesy, as he kissed her hand. "She has
graciously promised to become my wife, and I have only to secure your
consent to complete my felicity."
"Gritzko! my dear boy!" was all the Princess could murmur. "If--if--you
are sure it is for the happiness of you both nothing of course could
give me greater joy; but--"
"It will be for our happiness," he answered, letting the hinted doubt
pass.
Then his ceremonious manner melted a little, and he again kissed his
old friend's hand. "Dear Tantine, have no fears. I promise you it shall
be for our happiness."
The Princess was deeply moved. She knew there must be something
underneath all this, but she was accustomed to believe Gritzko blindly,
and she felt that if he gave his word, things must be right. She would
ask no questions.
"Will you go and fetch my fiancée like the darling you are," he said
presently, "I want you to give her to me."
And the Princess, quite overcome with emotion, left the room.
It was not like a triumphant prospective Princess and bride that Tamara
followed her godmother, when they returned together. She looked a
slender drooping girl, in a clinging dove-colored gown, and she hardly
raised her eyes from the carpet. Her trembling hand was cold as death
when the Princess took it and placed it in Gritzko's, and as they stood
receiving her blessing she kissed them both, and then hurriedly made
her exit.
When they were alone Tamara remained limp and still, her eyes fixed on
the ground. It was he who broke the silence--as he took her left hand,
and touched it with his lips.
He drew from her finger her wedding ring and carelessly put it on a
table--while he still held her hand--then he placed his gift in the
wedding ring's place, a glittering thing of an immense diamond and
ruby.
Tamara shivered. She looked down at her hand, it seemed as if all safe
and solid things were slipping from her with the removal of that plain
gold band. She made no remark as to the beauty of the token of her
engagement, she did not thank him, she remained inert and nerveless.
"I thank you, Madame, for your consent," he said stiffly, "I will try
to make you not regret it." He used no word of love, nor did he attempt
any caresses, although if she had looked up she would have seen the
passionate tenderness brimming in his eyes, which he could not conceal.
But she did not raise her head, and it all seemed to her part of the
same thing--he knew he had sinned against her, and was making the only
reparation a gentleman could offer.