Again that coldly triumphant glance, the tightening of the lines about the thin lips. Wilfully Allard misapplied the last sentence.
"Oh, if my poor influence with the Emperor can aid you, Baron! You know how I esteem you."
The click of the lock prevented the exasperated Dalmorov's retort. Stanief held open the door, then followed Adrian into the room. There was no distinction of rank in the surprise with which the three men looked at one another, and from one another to the Emperor who had brought them together. A thrill of startled expectation ran from each to the other like a thread of flame.
Adrian without his muffling draperies of cloth-of-gold was again the well-known figure of every-day. Yet there was some subtle difference in his bearing, in the carriage of his small head, which left no doubt that the ceremony of the morning had been very real. It was characteristic that he went to his object without preamble or delay.
"Feodor," he said as he moved to the large central table, and the languid sweetness of his accent was a sufficient warning of danger to those who knew him, "it is unfortunate to be forced to mingle serious affairs with a day already so full, but Baron Dalmorov urges so vigorously the necessity for readjusting the government that I have consented. You will hardly believe that his anxiety leaves neither of us an hour's repose. Will you assist us in this task?"
"If I can, sire," Stanief answered gravely. The kitten was playing with the mice; too well had the Regent learned his deceptive ward for him to draw confidence from the Emperor's courtesy during the day.
"Who else, cousin?" returned Adrian, with exquisite grace. "Who can do so well? How should the country continue without the wise hand that has guided it through these three years? Pray reassure Baron Dalmorov by telling him that you will still hold in fact the power that nominally you resigned this morning, always aided by my loving support."
Allard grasped the back of a chair; so much even he had never hoped. Stupefied, Dalmorov gazed paling at Adrian, who leaned tranquilly against the table, his lips curved in a very slight cold smile.
"If you indeed speak seriously, sire, I can have but one reply," Stanief said. "Forgive me for the doubt."
"Since I have taught you it, why not? But the farce is over, the game closed. Dalmorov, pray attend; possibly you also may be interested in the explanation that my cousin asks." For the first time his glance went that way. "At least you best can understand why this game has been played. For a game it has been, Feodor. If a cruel one, why, our race is not gentle nor reared in tenderness. Or to truth, remember that; your mother was an Englishwoman. I give what I have received; you alone ever gave or asked of me frankness. Take it now, if long delayed."