CHAPTER XVII
AN ARABIAN NIGHT
The Emperor's congratulations and formal inquiries duly arrived, borne by a glittering officer who was so impressed by the coldness of the message intrusted to him that he scarcely raised his eyes during its delivery. He had the misfortune to be attached to the Regent.
But Stanief received all unmoved. A clear scarlet burned in his dark cheek, his drowsy eyes glowed with some inward fire. He had just left the Grand Duchess and still carried traces of the recent accident, but he smiled in utter tranquillity as he listened, and gave his reply. It was too unaccountable; actually dismayed by the indifferent composure, the officer retired, and found himself stammering again when he repeated the answering message to the Emperor.
Adrian was at dinner, or rather had just concluded, when he found time to receive the envoy; and he set down his glass to study this embarrassment in a courtier of twenty years' standing. He was always cynically interested in such situations.
"What else did the Grand Duke say?" he demanded.
"Sire, nothing was said except that which I have had the honor to report to your Imperial Majesty."
"Nothing to you?"
"Nothing, sire."
Adrian made no sign, yet the unfortunate equery was conscious that he was not believed.