He laid his hand warningly on hers. "We are under a hundred eyes, Iría. You live aloof from politics and intrigues, but yet you know my regency ends in a few months." "You mean--the Emperor?" "The Emperor has never trusted me, never forgiven me for the chance which set me as ruler of his country. There is no danger of the old kind; the days of state executions are past, or I would never have survived the last reign. But when Adrian assumes command it will undoubtedly mean that I lay aside all you have seen of me, and retire a simple gentleman of leisure to my estates. No more will I play 'the regal game,' as Adrian expressed it to-day. Could you brave that, Iría, to be no longer the center of a brilliant court? To live the stately monotony of my life in the old castle among the mountains, or perhaps travel to other countries as just the wife of the Grand Duke Feodor Stanief, who is of no more importance than any noble? For Adrian will want to keep you, if you will stay." The little hand under his turned to clasp his fingers; star-eyed, richly tinted with excitement, Iría leaned to him. "With you, let me be with you. I am afraid of nothing with you, without you of everything. Oh, monseigneur, do you not see that what you lose are a man's desires, not a woman's? Power, political influence, to guide and rule--what do such names mean to me? I shall miss nothing; it is only you who will grieve and regret." "My dear, my dear," said Stanief unsteadily, and turned away his face before a new hope which out-dazzled all the morning's pictured loss. "It is so, only do not speak again of leaving me here. I love the Emperor, but I am afraid of him. And if he can treat you in this way--" "Hush; never blame him, however alone you fancy us. If you can help it, do not let him guess that I have told you of this. And for the rest, the fault is more Dalmorov's than his." "I will not," she promised. And after a moment, "Some one else will follow you always, monseigneur." He knew the answer before he asked the question, and the light went suddenly from his face, leaving it to all the old grave endurance. "Who, Iría?" "Monsieur Allard," she replied. Stanief again looked across the teeming streets; it was as if a chill, intangible mist stole up from the near-by river and drew its cold grayness between the two who sat side by side. "John is a loyal gentleman," he said, without anger; "I value you both above all else. For two years I have walked without seeing beyond a certain point, to-day I have come to a turn in the road and on ahead I see my destination. Not the end I hoped, perhaps, but at least I know. And I thank you for the household security which you have given to me, my poor child." The carriage stopped in front of the quaintly splendid Palace Stanief. Iría lingered before accepting the Regent's aid to descend, her delicate lip curving distressedly. "Do not call me that, please," she begged. "Because you have made me very happy, monseigneur."