But each time she felt his arm round her, back again would
steal the delicious mad thrill.
"I hope you are amusing yourself, dear child," her godmother said.
"This is a Russian scene; you would not see it in any other land."
And indeed Tamara was happy, in spite of her agitation and unrest.
She sat down now with Olga Gl?boff, and they watched the others while
they took breath. The Prince was dancing with Princess Sh?banoff, and
her charming face was turned up to him with an adoring smile.
"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 Gl?boff told Tamara,
as they descended the stairs. "At this time of the year they never see
daylight, only sometimes the dawn.
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