"How fortunate I met him to-night!"
"Indeed, yes."
Then her attention was diverted, as it always was each time she saw the
blazing braziers and heaped up flaming piles of wood at the corners of
the streets, since she had been in Russia. "How glad I am there is
something to make the poor people warm," she said.
"When it gets below twelve degrees it is difficult to enjoy life,
certainly," the Prince agreed. "And, indeed, it is hard sometimes not
to freeze."
It was a strange lurid picture, the Isvostchiks drawn round, while the
patient horses with their sleighs stood quiet some little distance off.
How hard must existence be to these poor things.
Supper could not be ready for half an hour, the Prince told them when
they got to the Fontonka House, and as they all arrived more or less
together, they soon paired off for bridge.
"I am going to show Mrs. Loraine my pictures," the host said. "She
admires our Catherine and Peter the Great."
And in the salon where they all sat, he began pointing out this one and
that, making comments in a distrait voice. But when they came to the
double doors at the end he opened them wide, and led Tamara into
another great room.
"This is the ballroom," he said. "It is like all ballrooms, so we shall
not linger over that. I have two Rembrandts in my own apartment beyond
which it may interest you to see, and a few other relics of the past."
He was perfectly matter of fact, his manner had not a shade of
gallantry in it, and Tamara accepted this new situation and followed
him without a backward thought.
They seemed to go through several sheet-shrouded salons and came out
into a thoroughly comfortable room. Its general aspect of decoration
had a Byzantine look, and on the floor were several magnificent bear
skins, while around the walls low bookcases with quantities of books
stood. And above them many arms were crossed. Over the mantlepiece a
famous Rembrandt frowned, and another from the opposite wall. But it
was strange there were no photographs of dancers or actresses about as
Tamara would have thought.
The Prince talked intelligently. He seemed to know of such things as
pictures, and understood their technique. And if he had been an elderly
art critic he could not have been more aloof.
Presently Tamara noticed underneath the first picture there was hung a
quaint sword. Something in its shape and workmanship attracted her
attention, and she asked its history.