"Then the Grand Duke is waiting over there?" she flung out her hand toward the north, lifting her small white face to him, the golden-brown curls tossing in the breeze. Even then he had no conception of her mistake. "Surely, madame; where else?" he wondered. The Gentle Princess made no exclamation, no reproach. Only her head drooped again, and shivering she drew the veil about her face. "I am tired, monsieur," she gasped. "Will you take me back?" "Madame, most unintentionally I have offended you. Let me beg forgiveness and ask how." "No, no; no one has done wrong. I myself was--absurd. I am not angry, monsieur; only tired." They walked back, Allard completely bewildered and uncomprehending. By her chair Iría paused and gave him her hand with a smile whose sweetness was beyond tears. "Thank you, Monsieur Allard," she said. "Perhaps we shall still be friends over there. You are going home, but I go a stranger to a strange place; I meant no more than that." She was like Theodora, Allard thought, deeply moved. Surely Stanief would be gentle with her gentleness. The next morning they landed. CHAPTER X A STANIEF'S OWN It was a pity that, amidst all the gorgeous ceremony and confusion of welcome, Iría did not see the warm affection of Stanief's greeting to Allard. Perhaps she would have been less hopelessly afraid when the little Emperor took her hand and presented to her the tall, superb noble whose dark face, finely emotionless, resembled a cameo. Whose velvet eyes she dared not seek behind their curtaining lashes. Yet Stanief was faultlessly courteous, even kind in his grave manner. It might have been merely that he was so different from her fancies of the last weeks. The wedding was to take place in two days; two days of festivities, of marvelously decorated streets, of wonderful balls by night. Iría did exactly as she was told; yielded dazedly to Adrian's caresses and accepted the Regent's lavish gifts. Like a beautiful toy she allowed her ladies to dress her half a dozen times a day, and listened submissively to her mother's advice. But the afternoon before her wedding-day, she saw Stanief alone for the first time. After all, it was not really alone. The Emperor had been chatting with her on the great glass-enclosed balcony, and as Stanief came toward them, he rose with a significant smile and went back to the reception-hall. Still, from that crowded reception-hall they were only separated by arching, open arcades; only slightly screened by towering palms and flowers in huge vases.