So winter set its seal of silence on river and snow-muffled 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.
CHAPTER XV
AT THE GATES OF CHANGE
Once more Stanief was alone in his study, on the morning when Allard made his first rebellion. The windows were open and a warm, sweet breeze drifted the curtains into the room like snowy mists from the past winter, rustling on among the papers upon the writing-table, as Stanief laid down his work to listen to the visitor. It was so rare to see Allard excited and he was so vibrant with indignation as he stood before the other.