If hers is vulgar, so will the rooms
be, even though Monsieur Nelson himself has but just designed them in
purest Louis XVI. But the worst of all are those which look as though
their owner constantly attended bazaars, and brought the superfluous
horrors she secured there back with her. Then there are vapid rooms,
and anaemic rooms, and fiddly, and messy rooms, and there are monuments
of wealth with no individuality at all.
Tamara felt all these _nuances_ directly, and she knew that here dwelt
a woman of natural refinement and a broad outlook.
She sank into an old-fashioned sofa, covered with silk a quarter of an
inch thick, and the atmosphere seemed to breathe life and completeness.
Tea and quantities of different little _bonnes bouches_ awaited them.
But if there was a samovar she did not recognize it as such; in fact,
she had seen nothing which many writers describe as "Russian."
The Princess talked on in a fashion of perfect simplicity and
directness. She told her that her friends would all welcome her and be
glad that an Englishwoman should really see their country, and find it
was not at all the grotesque place which fancy painted it.
"We are so far away that you do not even imagine us," she said. "You
English have read that there was an Ivan the Terrible and a Peter the
Great, who crushed through your Evelyn's hedges, and was a giant of
seven foot high! Many of you believe wolves prowl in the streets at
night, and that among the highest society Nihilists stalk, disguised as
heaven knows what! While the sudden disappearance of a member of any
great or small family can be accounted for by a nocturnal visit of
police, and a transportation in chains to Siberian mines! Is it not so,
Tamara?"
Tamara laughed.
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