"Poor Tatiane,—" Countess Olga said low to herself.
When the gipsies returned, their music grew wilder than ever, and some of the solos seemed to touch responsive chords in Tamara's very bones.
The Prince sat next her on the sofa now, and every few moments he would bend over to take an almond, or light a cigarette, so that he touched her apparently without intention, but nevertheless with intent. And the same new and intoxicating sensation would steal through her, and she would draw her slender figure away and try to be stiff and severe, but with no effect.
It was long after five o'clock before it was all done, and they began to wrap up and say "Goodnight." And the troupe, bowing, went out to another engagement they had.
"They sing all night and sleep in the day," Count Gléboff told Tamara, as they descended the stairs. "At this time of the year they never see daylight, only sometimes the dawn."
"Tantine," said the Prince, "order your motor to go back. I sent for my troika, and it is here. We must show Madame Loraine what a sleigh feels like."
And the Princess agreed.
Oh! the pleasure Tamara found when presently they were flying over the snow, the side horses galloping with swift, sure feet. And under the furs she and her godmother felt no cold, while Gritzko, this wild Prince, sat facing them, his splendid eyes ablaze.
Presently they stopped and looked out on the Gulf of Finland and a vast view. Above were countless stars and a young, rising moon.
It was striking seven as they went to their rooms.