"Why should I not believe you, who are truth itself? Thank you, Allard. Pray come with me; it is time to rest, I fancy." Allard hurriedly put away their motoring garments, and presently they went from the room. But the Emperor was not one around whom gentle illusions long could cling; sword-like he slipped through such gauzy fabrics. As they parted for the night he regarded Allard keenly, with even a suggestion of amused cruelty. "If you have found me indecorously frivolous to-night," he said, "remember how near we are to next week. It will be a robust sense of honor that survives next week, Allard. You can not conceive how earnestly I desire my day for which I have waited so long." Allard stiffened to the rigidity of self-control; comprehending all the allusion to Stanief, he found no reply he dared give. CHAPTER XVIII THE LAST WEEK As the first week of the regency had been, so the last week was a dazzling confusion, a series of gorgeous pageants, a riot of semi-Eastern splendor. But if this last held all the rejoicing and glory of the commencement of a new reign, it held also the deep regret and dread of the passing of a tested security. The Empire loved Stanief with grateful fervor, it feared Adrian. Even in the court were those who foresaw a return to old disaster in the rule of the unguided and wilful young sovereign. Yet before Stanief's own will all these elements were helpless. The court party proper triumphed, because the others lacked a leader. Dalmorov and his followers, the officials held to strict account under Stanief's stern government, the officers and ministers deprived of bribes and pillage, the jealous and chafing nobles, all these turned in snarling glee to watch the fall. Through all the chaos Stanief moved with a dignity never so great, carrying his head proudly above the conflict. Still the power lay in his grasp, and firmly he held the seething country to a semblance of calm. Many a shaft he received, many a veiled insolence and obvious taunt, growing bolder as the last beads slipped from his chain and the ungenerous enemies feared him less; but since the day of the attack he had borne himself like one who possesses a secret world of his own. By his side Iría played her part, no less dreamily radiant. She at least met no bitterness except her own knowledge of the coming change; she had offended no one, and no one ventured to annoy the Gentle Princess whom Adrian's love might yet hold above the wreck. But it was noted as significant that the Emperor avoided seeing either her or her husband, so far as possible. The night before the coronation, Allard escaped from the palace and went to Stanief. Adrian had released him earlier than usual, and he was furious before some new arrogance of the victorious party.