Valonne was a charming person, and he and Tamara were great friends. He chatted on now, and she smiled at him, but with ears preternaturally sharpened she heard the conversation of the other pair.
It was this.
"Tantine, I am feeling the absolute devil tonight. Will you come and have supper with me after this infernal ballet is over?"
"Gritzko—what is it? Something has disturbed you!"
He leant forward and rested his chin on his hands. "Well, your haughty guest touched me with too sharp a spur, perhaps," he said, "but she was right. I do waste my life. I have been thinking of my mother. I believe she might not be pleased with me sometimes. And then I felt mad, and now I must do something to forget. So if you won't sup—"
"Oh! Gritzko!" the Princess said.
"I telephoned home and ordered things to be ready. I know you don't like a restaurant. Say you will come," and he kissed her hand. "I have asked all the rest." And the Princess had to consent!
"You must promise not to quarrel any more with my godchild if we do. I am sure you frighten and upset her, Gritzko—promise me," she said. He laughed.
"I upset her! She is too cold and good to be upset!"
Tamara still continued to talk to Valonne, and presently they all moved into the box, and the Prince sat down beside her, and again as he leaned over in the shaded light that nameless physical thrill crept over her. Was she really cold, she asked herself. If so, why should she shiver as she was shivering now?