The great auditorium, with its blue silk-curtained boxes, the
mass of glittering uniforms, and the ladies in evening-dress, although
they were all in black, made a gay spectacle almost like a gala night.
Then it is so delightful to have one's eyes pleased with what is on the
stage and yet be able to talk.
But Tamara, as she sat and looked at it, was not enjoying herself. She
was overcome with a vague feeling of unrest. She hated having to admit
that the Prince was the cause of it. She could not look ahead; she was
full of fear. She knew now that when he was near her she experienced
certain emotion, that he absorbed far too much of her thoughts. He did
not really care for her probably, and if he did, how could one hope to
be happy with such a wild, fierce man? No, she must control herself;
she must conquer his influence over her, and if she could not she
could at least go away. England seemed very uninteresting and calm--and
safe!
Filled with these sage resolutions she tried to fix her eyes on the
stage, but unconsciously they continually strayed to a tall blue figure
which was seated in the front row of the stalls with a number of
officers of the Chevaliers Gardes. And when the curtain went down,--and
instead of the Prince joining them in the box, as she fully expected he
would do, he calmly leaned against the orchestra division and surveyed
the house with his glasses--she felt a sudden pang, and talked as best
she might to the many friends who thronged to pay the Princess court.
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