Adrian turned and went on without comment. The guard at the door saluted Allard without regarding the uninteresting figure of the chauffeur, and they passed into the safety of the palace.
When they were once more in the little salon and had slipped off their wraps, the impression seized Allard that his companion was rather pale and fatigued. Either from the pallor or from recent excitement Adrian looked younger than usual as he stood pushing back the dark hair disordered by his mask, and the watcher was pierced by remorse and something of Stanief's wide pity for the one so warped by circumstance and environment. Very kind to him the Emperor had been, the Emperor who next week would send away the only two men who cared for him and stand splendidly desolate in his treacherous court. The pathos of it beat down resentment. And being transparent, Allard's gray eyes betrayed the softened thoughts as they encountered the other's.
"Well?" Adrian questioned, as if to a spoken phrase.
"You will not believe me, sire, but—I would guard you if nothing compelled."
Adrian made a movement of surprise, then smiled at Allard with almost his cousin's charming grace.
"Why should I not believe you, who are truth itself? Thank you, Allard. Pray come with me; it is time to rest, I fancy."
Allard hurriedly put away their motoring garments, and presently they went from the room.
But the Emperor was not one around whom gentle illusions long could cling; sword-like he slipped through such gauzy fabrics. As they parted for the night he regarded Allard keenly, with even a suggestion of amused cruelty.
"If you have found me indecorously frivolous to-night," he said, "remember how near we are to next week. It will be a robust sense of honor that survives next week, Allard. You can not conceive how earnestly I desire my day for which I have waited so long."
Allard stiffened to the rigidity of self-control; comprehending all the allusion to Stanief, he found no reply he dared give.