His voice shook on the sentiment he would have spoken lightly; stooping with the fierceness of pain suppressed, he touched his lips to her bright hair.
"You," panted Iria, as the door closed. "You, monseigneur!"
He had gone; only the silver-fringed curtain still swayed to tell of his pa.s.sage, the frail, feminine atmosphere of the place still quivered from the presence of a dominant energy.
Down in the open carriage--a ma.s.sively luxurious vehicle with the imperial arms enameled upon the door--Allard waited for Stanief a long time. The Emperor, just returning from a drive and apparently in haste to have his note reach Iria, had sent the nearest messenger in his own carriage.
"Do you know what one might imagine, seeing this carriage here and you waiting in it?" playfully demanded Vasili, as he lounged against the wheel.
"What?"
"That the Emperor was paying a visit to his cousin."
"I wish he were," Allard sighed unguardedly.
"I never meddle with politics; _pas si bete_. But I wish I were the Emperor"s favorite just now, as you are. There will be changes soon, _hein_?"
"I suppose so. No one can tell."
"No, of course not. Do you know, I would like to be off in the _Nadeja_ next week."
"The Regent is coming," Allard warned, gladly seizing an escape from the conversation.
Vasili swung around and clicked his heels together, saluting stiffly.
Allard stepped down from the carriage.
"You need not come, Vasili," Stanief remarked, as he took his seat.
"Monsieur Allard will accompany me. Come, John; we are late."
The horses sprang forward.
The drive through the streets, gay with preparations for the coronation and crowded with busy people, was attended by the manifestations grown familiar. More eager way was made for Stanief than for the Emperor himself; the glances which followed him were grateful and keenly anxious. Once a girl in a pa.s.sing farmer"s cart rose to toss into the carriage a sheaf of wildflowers.
"Little Father of the People!" she called in the soft, guttural vernacular.
It was a t.i.tle given only to sovereigns; Stanief flushed and frowned together.
"That will not do," he commented drily, leaning back in the shadow of the victoria top.
"You have permitted them to think, and they give you their verdict,"
Allard answered.
The carriage turned from the great square to an avenue leading toward the palace. Densely packed with people, there was a brief pause before the way could be cleared. Noting a change in the atmosphere, a chill and more nervous haste, Allard lifted his eyes to his companion.
"This carriage, and with you in the shadow, monseigneur," he observed,--"they think it is the Emperor who pa.s.ses."
The reply was not made by Stanief. Straight and surely aimed, a missile hurtled from an upper window in one of the buildings and fell on the cushions beside him.
"For peace and freedom!" shrieked a man, leaning from the window in half-insane excitement and waving his arms above his head. "No Adrian--for the Emperor Feodor!"
The crowd grew white with upturned faces; then, comprehending, broke into tumult and panic. Screaming, frantic, one and all turned to fly from the vicinity of the carriage. Allard s.n.a.t.c.hed the bomb from the seat and rose to fling it from him, but even as he checked himself, Stanief seized his arm.
"Not into the people, John," he ordered sharply. "Better keep it here than that."
"Go, you!" Allard implored, turning the smoking object in his hands for examination. "Go, monseigneur!"
Above the uproar of the fighting, shrieking mob rose the agonized cry of the man at the window as he saw the Regent"s face:
"You! You! The fuse, pull the fuse!"
"Fuse?" echoed Allard, catching at a small hanging thread of cotton.
"Monseigneur, go, go! I can handle this--"
The cotton broke off short; a steady hissing warned them that it still burned inside.
"Give it here," Stanief commanded collectedly. "Get your penknife."
The two men bent above the oval, gray messenger of hate and death.
Around them raged indescribable disorder; the very coachman and footmen had fled from the carriage.
"If you would go!" Allard panted, his voice tense.
"Bah," said Stanief, and forced the bomb from him.
An ominous snapping came from within. Stanief"s strong white fingers fitted themselves to the crack and with a superb effort he twisted the thing in half.
"Ah!" gasped Allard, blinded, as a great cloud of smoke rushed forth.
Stanief drew out the fuse as it reached the end, and flung it into the street.
"Lighted too late," he explained. "Our terrorists are clumsy."
"They meant it for Adrian," he answered. "You were right."
They found each other"s hands through the choking fumes; Allard"s fingers scorched by the guncotton, Stanief"s bruised and bleeding from the force used to open the machine.
As the smoke cleared they looked around, then back at each other. They were alone in a deserted street. Distant cries, increasing tumult, announced the spreading panic. Three blocks away flashed the green-and-gold of the palace guards as they charged to the scene, over pavements littered with fallen garments, the contents of overturned vehicles, and the vehicles themselves. The well-trained horses of the royal carriage had stood still, accustomed to public demonstrations of a different nature but similar violence.
"Really," Allard exclaimed, on the verge of laughter. "Really, monseigneur--"
"There has been some excitement," Stanief a.s.sented. "Will you go on to the palace and explain to the Emperor? I am going back to rea.s.sure madame."
Their attendants were creeping shamefacedly back to their posts, seeing all was over. The line of soldiers swept down upon the carriage, a very pale officer in command.
"I will do," said Allard, "anything you want."
If the uproar had been great at the attack, it trebled as the furious crowd surged back in search of the a.s.sailant. The guards were obliged to close around the Regent to shield him from the frenzied and hysterical joy of the people at his safety. The slow return to his home was one continuous ovation, almost the cheering ma.s.ses prevented advance.