Later on that same evening, while Philip Tremain paced the deck of the out-going steamer with restless footsteps, and did battle with the conflicting emotions that raged within him, Patricia Hildreth, leaning on the arm of the most distinguished partner of the hour, floated languidly around to the strains of "Dreamland" waltzes, the most admired woman of all the bevy of fair women who filled the spacious drawing-rooms of the "Eversleigh" at Long Branch. Her draperies of lustrous silk were not more white than her fair face, nor were the jewels on her bosom more bright and cold, than was the blue fire of her eyes. Only her smile retained its old charm and sweetness, and belied the weariness that rested upon her brow.
She conferred distinction by her presence, and dispensed her favours with so royal a grace, the recipients of her bounty never stopped to weigh their value, or count their cost.
CHAPTER XIII.
THÉ ANGLAIS.
Ivor Tolskoi did not see Mdlle. Naundorff again for several weeks.
On leaving her at the private entrance of the Palace, he had walked away with Patouchki, towards the Chancellerie, where he was kept busily at work until late in the afternoon. He purposely avoided the Court circle in the evening, his presence not being officially demanded, for he felt he could not so soon again meet Olga's reproachful eyes, and pale suffering face; a longer interval must elapse before he could greet her in his accustomed manner.
The next day he heard of her sudden indisposition through that same Countess Vera, whose trivial words had first set alight the fire of vindictiveness in his heart. Ivor was a great favourite in all the Petersburg salons, and his appearance in Countess Vera's drawing-rooms at the magic tea-hour was hailed with delight.
A considerable number of the best known beau-mondaines were already gathered there, to whom the Countess—who was a pronounced follower of all customs English—was dispensing tea from out a most un-English-looking samovar. She welcomed Ivor with effusion, and bade him take the vacant chair beside her low gipsy-table, which with its dainty tea-cloth and royal Worcester tea-service, looked distinctly out of place in the large, formal, mirror-hung apartment.
"It is delightful to see you, mon cher," lisped the Countess in her high voice, looking at him languishingly; "it is ages, eternities, centuries, since you last honoured one of my thés anglais with your presence. Positively I believe you have not before seen my newest importation from that land of fogs and delights. Behold, this is my very last!" and she pointed gaily to the little table. "I assure you it is quite correct, quite comme il faut, cloth and all. I have it direct from my dear friend, the Duchess of Hever; it is an exact copy of the one used by the Princess at Sandringham. The dear English! one quite grows to love them."