"Sire," Stanief said, and somehow his tone made Allard feel suddenly abashed, as one who stands before a thing not for his eyes, "there will come a day when you will stand in the great cathedral to receive the oaths of allegiance of your nobles. There will be all ceremony, all solemnity, but--take mine now. The one I shall give you then can mean no more. You have been taught to have no faith in such promises; when you receive mine for the second time, I hope it will have gained some value in your sight." "I wish it had now; I almost think it has," he answered, with a bitterness and energy singularly strange from his boyish lips. "I want to have faith in you, cousin." He rose, and Stanief with him. "I care for nothing," he added, reverting to the previous invitation. "I have already stayed too long. Monsieur," his eyes went to Allard for the first time, "monsieur is the American gentleman who sailed with you from New York?" Allard came forward in response to a glance from Stanief. "Sire, I have the honor to present Monsieur John Allard, whom I have persuaded to come with me because I also have need of one friend whom I can trust." He was after all so pathetic in his lonely and sophisticated youth, this child. Saluting him, Allard's clear gray eyes involuntarily expressed all their sympathy and warm kindliness. And, meeting the regard, Adrian gave him his only smile of the evening. "It is easy to trust you others, Monsieur Allard," he said wistfully. "I wish you were my friend instead of Feodor's." "Is it not the same thing, sire?" Allard questioned. "Is it?" "I sincerely believe so, sire." "Bring Monsieur Allard with you to-morrow, cousin," Adrian directed, lifting his gaze to Stanief. "And good night." "You will allow me to accompany your return, sire?" "Certainly not,--to attract all the capital!" "Pardon, I meant as secretly as Gregor attends you; who--again pardon me--is scarcely attendance enough." Adrian shook his head decisively. "Your people on the yacht--" "They are not already aware that your Imperial Majesty is here?" "You can order them to be silent," he retorted, with angry irritation. "Exactly, sire," said Stanief, and waited. Adrian was nothing if not swift of thought; he drew the inference intended and conceded the point. "Very well," he yielded. "As you will, cousin. Good night, Monsieur Allard." He held out his hand, and quite unconsciously Allard took the little fingers in his warm clasp. Stanief, holding aside the curtain, smiled to himself; but Adrian accepted the Americanism equably and his last glance was all friendly. It was three o'clock in the morning when Stanief reëntered the _Nadeja's_ salon. Allard was still there, and rose expectantly to receive him. "I waited," he explained. "You need not have," Stanief replied, with all his usual cool serenity. "Go and rest; to-morrow the battle opens. Only--" "Only, monseigneur?" He came over to the table to find the tiny gold-tipped cigarettes.