The lunch passed off with quiet reserve--there was no one present but
Stephen Strong. Tamara endeavored to behave naturally and answered
Gritzko whenever he spoke to her. He, too, played his part, but the
tone of things did not impose upon Stephen Strong.

As they were leaving the diningroom, on the plea of finding something,
Tamara went to her room, and Gritzko took his leave.

"I will fetch you for the French plays tonight, Tantine," he said, "and
probably will come back to tea--tell Tamara," and so he left, and the
two old friends were alone.

They stirred their coffee and then lit cigarettes--there was an awkward
silence for a moment, and then the Princess said: "Stephen, I count upon you to help us all over this. I do not, and will
not, even guess what has happened, but of course something has. Only
tell me, do you think he loves her? I cannot bear the idea of Tamara's
being unhappy."

The old Englishman puffed rings of smoke.

"If she is prepared never to cross his will, but let him be absolute
master of her body and soul, while he makes continuous love to her, I
should think she will be the happiest woman in the world. She is madly
infatuated with him. She has been ever since we came from Egypt--I saw
the beginning on the boat--and I warned you, as you know, when I
thought he was only fooling."