Her godmother found her there still as an image when presently she came to ask after her health.
"Tamara! dearest child. You worry me dreadfully. Confide in me, little one. Tell me what has happened?" and she placed her kind arms around her goddaughter's shoulders and caressed and comforted her.
Tamara shivered, and then stood up. "I am going to marry Gritzko,
Marraine," she said. "I have just sent him my answer."
And the Princess had too much tact to do more than embrace her, and express her joy, and give her her blessing. All as if the news contained no flaw, and had come in the most delightful manner.
Then she left her alone in her room.
Yes, this was the only thing to be done, and the sooner the ceremony should be over the better. Lent would come on in a few short weeks; that would be the excuse to hasten matters, and this idea was all Tamara was conscious of as she finished dressing.
At twelve o'clock, with formal ceremony, Prince Milaslávski sent to ask if the Princess Ardácheff could receive him—and soon after he was shown up into the first salon, where the hostess awaited him.
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—"