"
"So many of you are so d?s?quilibr?s," Tamara said. "You seem to be so
polished and sensible and even great, and then in a moment you are off
at a tangent, displaying that want of discipline that we at home would
not permit in a child."
"Yes it is true."
"It seems that you love, and must have, or you hate and must kill.
There are storms and passions, and the gaiety of children and their
irresponsibility, and all on the top is good manners and smiles, but
underneath--I have a feeling I know not what volcano may burst."
"Tonight I feel one could flame with me." He came up close now and
looked into her eyes, as if he were going to say something, and then he
restrained himself.
Tamara did not move, she looked at him gravely.
"You all seem as if you had no aim," she said. "You are not interested
in the politics of your country. You don't seem to do anything but kill
time--Why?"
"Our country!" he said, and he flung himself into a seat near. "It
would be difficult to make you understand about that. In the old days
of the serfs, it was all very well. One could be a good landlord and
father to them all, but now----" Then he got up restlessly and paced
the room. "Now there are so many questions. If one would think it would
drive one mad, but I am a soldier, Madame, so I do not permit myself to
speculate at all."
"Things are not then as you would wish?" she asked.
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