The Game and the Candle Part 26

"Have him brought to me; I am ready to see him."

Dimitri saluted and vanished. All unconsciously, Iria's taper, snowy fingers had touched the pieces on the grim chess-board, and moved them ever so slightly.

CHAPTER XIV

THE ORDEAL

For Allard that last summer of the regency brought the hardest of all things for a loving heart to bear: to stand in the shelter and watch a friend in the storm, to be forced to witness where unable to aid. No personal humiliation could have affected him so painfully as to see Stanief under the Emperor's stinging sarcasms and cold, young insolence, to note the furtive words and glances of the men who still courted present power while predicting its future fall.

Never after that morning of the contest of wills between the cousins, did Adrian's unforgiving sullenness lessen or relent. Day after day the Regent paid his formal visit and endured the ordeal with chill dignity.

Day after day Adrian received him in the presence of Dalmorov or half a dozen young n.o.bles of the capital; usually on the point of going out, and so making the brief interview a mere farce. Only one courtesy the Emperor conceded to the self-respect of both; never did he make the least hint of menace or future reckoning except when the cousins were alone or with Allard. By inference alone could the rest of the court foretell the coming end.

And Dalmorov was radiant. His spare figure actually dilated and gained weight in these days of victory, his eye-gla.s.ses poised a trifle more superciliously before his pale eyes. Stanief looked above and past him with a certain lofty indifference, but between Dalmorov and the chafing, aching Allard a clash was inevitable. As they seldom met except when Adrian's desire for both compelled, it was not surprising that in his presence that clash occurred.

It was after Stanief had pa.s.sed an especially difficult and trying hour with the Emperor, an hour which left Allard's nerves in quivering exasperation. When at last the Regent took leave, Adrian rose at the same time and crossed to a window with his nonchalant languor of movement.

"Bring me those gla.s.ses we were trying this morning, Allard," he directed. "I want to see that ship entering the river."

But Allard did nothing of the kind. The fourth one present, Dalmorov, had just moved aside from the door with an indescribable smile and bow to the Regent.

"I have the honor to wish your Royal Highness good morning," he said sweetly.

Stanief glanced down at him, outwardly unmoved by the neglect of a courtesy compelled by every rule of custom and etiquette; but before embarra.s.sment was possible Allard sprang forward and himself held back the door.

"Thank you," Stanief said only, but his eyes met the gray ones in pa.s.sing.

"Really, Baron, for a diplomat you grow too absent-minded," commiserated Allard softly to his vis-a-vis. "One might have imagined you intended that his Royal Highness should open the door himself."

"Since Monsieur Allard has become so learned in etiquette, he might observe that the Emperor is waiting," Dalmorov retorted viciously.

Allard shot a glance at Adrian, who had turned round just in time to witness the whole scene.

"At least, if I offend, I am careful to offend one who can retaliate, Baron," he flung back in an undertone, as he moved in quest of the article demanded.

"Who can, and whom you are in no position to provoke," Dalmorov sent after him, incautiously raising his tone with a bitter significance which the other failed to comprehend.

"When you are at leisure, gentlemen," Adrian's voice interposed coolly.

"Dalmorov, I would suggest that you follow my cousin and explain your unfortunate lapse of memory. Allard, I believe I made a request."

There was little Allard could not have forgiven to Adrian for sending Dalmorov to make that apology.

"I beg a thousand pardons, sire," he answered contentedly as he crossed the room.

After all Adrian did not look at his ship, but remained leaning against the window with his reflective gaze fixed on the other's face.

"I wonder," he remarked, when the door had closed behind Dalmorov, "if you do things like that because you are an American."

Surprised, Allard smiled involuntarily.

"Perhaps, sire, we are rather _sans gene_."

"You misunderstand me," he corrected. "I mean, do you act as the others would not, because you are not my subject as they are?"

Allard understood then, and the implied accusation stung him to hot anger.

"No, sire," he flashed. "I have not lived under your shelter and eaten your bread to hide beneath another flag when the scale turns. I am an American, yes, but I do not use my nationality as a cloak for cowardice.

So far, I have become your subject by entering your service."

Not until long afterward did Allard read the slow, half-amused smile that rose to the surface of the Emperor's dark eyes.

"Very good, we shall remember, Monsieur _l'Americain_," he returned, quite untroubled by the other's indignation. "Do not complain if some day I interfere with your affairs."

His affairs? Allard puzzled mentally. But he received no further explanation, and neither to him nor Dalmorov did Adrian again mention the incident.

Stanief looked very grave when Allard repeated the scene to him.

"You have made an active enemy of Dalmorov instead of a pa.s.sive," was his comment.

"Why should I care, monseigneur? Where you go, I follow, when the end comes."

"The end," Stanief echoed dreamily. "Everything does not end for us at once, John; we leave our treasures all along the path as we journey."

Down his self-appointed path Stanief was moving steadfastly in those months. And the first treasure left behind, the hardest to resign, had been Iria's confidence. Locked within the old timidity, she avoided her husband whenever it was possible to do so, hiding her eyes from him when necessity brought them together, coming no more to his study.

But there was one exception: every morning, after Stanief's visit to the palace, she waited for him in her carriage. Silent, her hands clasped in her lap, replying with hesitating monosyllables, she sat by his side during the drive home, one of her ladies opposite them.

Before Adrian, Stanief lifted his head a little more proudly, let his lashes fall a little lower, and went on his way without protest. He had enough to do, as he toiled to place the country in a position to continue without him. Wisely, tactfully, striving not to antagonize the Emperor to the right policy by claiming it as his own, he prepared the guiding lines to lie peacefully in the inexperienced grasp soon to take them.

It was not a happy task, or a light one, and he worked at it absolutely alone except for Allard's pa.s.sionate and powerless sympathy. But still he worked. And because there was so much to be done, it seemed to him that the days slipped through his fingers like beads of a broken chain.

So winter set its seal of silence on river and snow-m.u.f.fled street before he realized the fading summer. With spring would end the regency.

"How many months now, cousin?" drawled the Emperor, returning from the races held upon the glittering ice of the river, and pausing on the steps of the palace to unclasp his too oppressive furs.

"Five, sire," answered the tranquil Regent. "I believe I have to congratulate your Imperial Majesty upon the victories in to-day's sport."

"My horses? Ah, yes; this is my fortunate year. Thank you, cousin."

And Allard, in attendance, bit his lip until a tiny thread of crimson sprang beneath the pressure.

Faster and faster the beads were slipping from the chain; the path was straight to the end and very short.