Dimitri vanished hastily. An instant later he opened the door, and Iría came noiselessly across the threshold with the exotic, Andalusian grace that made her least movement a delight.
Both gentlemen rose at her entrance. Coloring faintly, she inclined her head to Allard, and crossed to Stanief, lifting her eyes to his with a certain delicate confidence and trust.
"You sent for me, monsiegneur?" she questioned, in her rippling southern voice.
"I asked you to come," he corrected. "Monsieur Allard has a message for you."
She turned docilely to Allard, without leaving Stanief's side.
"For me, monsieur?"
Stanief looked from one to the other. Very lovely was the young girl in her trailing blue velvets and furs; her golden-brown hair clustering in full, soft waves under the large hat, her golden-brown eyes warm with expectation. Iría had acquired a dainty poise, not less gentle but more assured, during these months of emancipation and freedom under the Regent's protection. Allard gazed at her with frank admiration and friendliness as he explained:
"Madame, the Emperor requests the happiness of your presence this morning, if the visit will cause no disturbance of your plans."
Her dimpling smile responded to a demand sufficiently familiar. Adrian's love for her had long ago outlived surprise and become an accepted fact.
"Thank you, monsieur," she answered, and again looked up at Stanief. "You are going, monseigneur? We may go together?"