"Only it was not with you I played chess to-night, John, but with Dalmorov and the late Emperor, my uncle. And I claim check." CHAPTER VIII TO MEET THE EMPEROR There are some periods which offer to the backward glance of memory rather a blur of blended color than a distinct picture, a rich and shining tapestry in which no one thread can be distinguished. So always to Allard seemed that first week in the country he learned to call home. The stately ceremonies of Stanief's reception and assumption of the regency; the dazzle and pageantry of the court even when thus subdued by mourning; his own sudden importance as the favorite of the actual sovereign, all merged into a glittering confusion through which he moved automatically. But there were two incidents which detached themselves from the bright background and always remained with him. The first was the first morning when Stanief formally met the Emperor at the palace; and, as he had stooped to the salute, Adrian had deliberately given him an embrace so markedly affectionate that even Allard felt the significant thrill that ran through the room. And then, even while the unusual color still flushed Stanief's dark cheek, Adrian shot a glance at a sharp-faced man opposite, a glance so sneering, so bitterly triumphant, that the straightforward American actually shrank from the revelation of dual thought. Evidently the embrace was given less to please Stanief than to annoy this other. Seeing the man's rigidly held face beneath the ordeal, he knew without question that this was the Baron Dalmorov whose desire in life was to prevent this very friendship between the cousins. Never again did Allard make the mistake of measuring Adrian by his few years. The second event was near the end of the week,--one noon when Stanief came home from a visit to the palace and found Allard alone. "Do you remember the trust you offered to take for me?" he asked abruptly. And, without waiting an assent, "You are summoned to it already." "Monseigneur?" "The Emperor this morning asked me to add you to his household. It is more than I hoped to gain, that he should himself make the request; yet--" They looked at each other, Allard startled and half dismayed, Stanief's velvet eyes less tranquil than usual. "Yet I shall miss you, John," he concluded, his voice a caress. The regret and the tone lay unforgotten in the closed room of Allard's heart. Years after, he could turn and find them there. So from the gorgeous household of the Regent one man passed to the still more gorgeous palace. Vasili and Count Rosal regarded him with respectful envy; he was elected to membership of the two clubs of the capital's _jeunesse dorée_, and overwhelmed with friends and invitations.