"Tonight all shall be suited to the eleven thousand virgins!" and he laughed. "Or shall I say suited to an English grande dame—which is the same!"
They had crossed the Neva by now, and presently arrived at a building with a gloomy looking door, and so to a dingy hall, in which a few waiters were scurrying about. They seemed to go through endless shabby passages, like those of a lunatic asylum, and finally arrived at a large and empty room—empty so far as people were concerned—for at the end there were sofas and a long narrow table, and a few smaller ones with chairs.
The tables were already laid, with dishes of raw ham and salted almonds and various bonnes bouches, while brilliant candelabra shone amidst numerous bottles of champagne.
The company seemed to have forgotten the gloom that playing bridge had brought over them, and were as gay again as one could wish, while divesting themselves of their furs and snow-boots.
And soon Tamara found herself seated on the middle sofa behind the long table, Count Gléboff on her right, and the French Secretary, Count Valonne, at her left, while beyond him was Princess Sonia, and near by all the rest.
Their host stood up in front, a brimming glass in his hand.
Then there filed in about twenty-five of the most unattractive animal-looking females, dressed in ordinary hideous clothes, who all took their seats on a row of chairs at the farther end. They wore no national costume nor anything to attract the eye, but were simply garbed as concierges or shop-girls might have been; and some were old, gray-haired women, and one had even a swollen face tied up in a black scarf! How could it be possible that any of these could be the "fancy" of a man!
They were followed by about ten dark, beetle-browed males, who carried guitars.
These were the famous Bohemians! Their appearance at all events was disillusioning enough. Tamara's disappointment was immense.
But presently when they began to sing she realized that there was something—something in their music—even though it was of an intense unrest.