"John, I have scarcely seen you to-night. You look troubled."
Allard started and turned, his face brightening warmly.
"I am not dancing to-night, monseigneur," he explained. "That is all."
"Why not?"
The gray eyes fell.
"I was—a bit out of sorts, perhaps."
Stanief stood silent, his own expression becoming very somber. Allard waited quietly; he indeed bore the stamp of fatigue in his pallor and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"It is a tangled skein, this life of ours," Stanief said at last, "and not wholly of our spinning. You are with the Emperor to-night?"
"Every night now, monseigneur."
"Then I may not see you until morning. Good night, John."