"I gladly promise," he answered. "What I already know of you is all-sufficient."

"Second, do not fail to come to my uncle's house when he invites you.

His home is worthy to receive the grandest prince in the world. My--my lord, Duke Philip the Good, was Uncle Castleman's dear friend. The old duke, when in Peronne, dined once a week with my uncle. Although uncle is a burgher, he could have been n.o.ble. He refused a lordship and declined the Order of the Golden Fleece, preferring the freedom of his own caste. I have always thought he acted wisely."

"Indeed he was wise," returned Max. "You that have never known the restraints of one born to high estate cannot fully understand how wise he was."

Yolanda glanced up to Max with amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes:--

"Ah, yes! For example, there is poor Mary of Burgundy, who is to marry the French Dauphin. I pity her. For all we know, she may be longing for another man as I--I longed for my mastiff, Caesar, when I was away. By the way, Sir Max, are you still wearing the ring?" She took his hand and felt for the ring on his finger. "Ah, you have left it off," she cried reproachfully, answering her own question.

"Yes," answered Max. "There have been so many changes within the last few weeks that I have taken it off, and--and I shall cease to wear it."

"Then give it to me, Sir Max," she cried excitedly.

"I may not do that, Fraulein," answered Max. "It was given to me by one I respect."

"I know who the lady is," answered Yolanda, tossing her head saucily and speaking with a dash of irritation in her voice.

"Ah, you do?" asked Max. "Tell me now, my little witch, who is the lady?

If you know so much tell me."

Yolanda lifted her eyes solemnly toward heaven, invoking the help of her never failing familiar spirit.

"I see an unhappy lady," she said, speaking in a low whisper, "whose father is one of the richest and greatest princes in all the world. A few evenings ago while we were standing on the moat bridge talking, I saw the lady's father on the battlements of yonder terrible castle. His form seemed magnified against the sky till it was of unearthly size and terrible to look on--doubly terrible to those who know him. If she should disobey her father, he would kill her with his battle-axe, I verily believe, readily as he would crush a rebellious soldier. Yet she fears him not, because she is of his own dauntless blood and fears not death itself. She is to marry the Dauphin of France, and her wishes are of so small concern, I am told that she has not yet been notified. This terrible man will sell his daughter as he would barter a horse. She is powerless to move in her own behalf, being bound hand and foot by the remorseless shackles of her birth. She will become an unhappy queen, and, if she survives her cruel father, she will, in time, take to her husband this fat land of Burgundy, for the sake of which he wishes to marry her. She is Mary of Burgundy, and even I, poor and mean of station, pity her. She--gave--you--the--ring."

"How did you learn all this, Fraulein? You are not guessing, as you would have had me believe, and you would not lie to me. What you have just said is a part with what you said at Basel and at Strasburg. How did you learn it, Fraulein?"

"Twonette," answered Yolanda.

That simple explanation was sufficient for Max. Yolanda might very likely know the private affairs of the Princess Mary through Twonette, who was a friend of Her Highness.

"But you have not promised to visit Uncle Castleman's house when he invites you," said Yolanda, drawing Max again to the bench beside her.

"I gladly promise," said Max.

"That brings me to the third promise I desire," said Yolanda. "I want you to give me your word that you will not leave Burgundy within one month from this day, unless I give you permission."

"I cannot grant you that promise, Fraulein," answered Max.

"Ah, but you must, you shall," cried Yolanda, desperately clutching his huge arms with her small hands and clinging to him. "I will scream, I will waken the town. I will not leave you, and you shall not shake me off till I have your promise. I may not give you my reasons, but trust me, Max, trust me. Give me your unquestioning faith for once. I am not a fool, Max, nor would I lie to you for all the world, in telling you that it is best for you to give me the promise. Believe me, while there may be risk to me in what I ask, it is best that you grant it, and that you remain in Peronne for a month--perhaps for two months, unless I sooner tell you to go."

"I may not give you the promise you ask, Fraulein," answered Max, desperately. "You must know how gladly I would remain here forever."

"I believe truly you want to stay," she answered demurely, "else I surely would not ask this promise of you. Your unspoken words have been more eloquent than any vows your lips could coin, and I know what is in your heart, else my boldness would have been beyond excusing. What I wish is that your desire should be great enough to keep you when I ask you to remain."

"I may not think of myself or my own desires, Fraulein," he answered.

"Like the lady of Burgundy, I was shackled at my birth."

"The lady of Burgundy is ever in your mind," Yolanda retorted sullenly.

"You would give this promise quickly enough were she asking it--she with her vast estate."

There was an angry gleam in the girl's eyes, and a dark cloud of unmistakable jealousy on her face. She stepped back from Max and hung her head. After a moment of silence she said:--

"You may answer me to-morrow night at this bridge, Sir Max. If you do not see fit to give me the promise, then I shall weary you no further with importunity, and you may go your way."

There was a touch of coldness in her voice as she turned and walked slowly toward the bridge. Max called softly:--

"Yolanda!"

She did not answer, but continued with slow steps and drooping head. As her form was fading into the black shadow of the castle wall he ran across the bridge to her, and took her hand:--

"Fraulein, I will be at the bridge to-morrow night, and I will try to give the promise you ask of me."

CHAPTER IX

THE GREAT RIDDLE

Max was cautious in the matter of making promises, as every honest man should be, since he had no thought of breaking them once they were given. Therefore, he wished to know that he could keep his word before pledging it. His lifelong habit of asking my advice may also have influenced him in refusing the promise that he so much wished to give; or perhaps he may have wanted time to consider. He did not want to give the promise on the spur of an impulse.

When he had finished telling me his troubles, I asked:--

"What will you do to-morrow night?"

My riddle was again solved; Yolanda was the princess. Her words were convincing. All doubt had been swept from my mind. There would be no more battledore and shuttlec.o.c.k with my poor brain on that subject. So when Max said, "I do not know what I shall do," I offered my opinion; "You surprise me, Max. You lack enterprise; there is no warmth in your blood. The girl cannot harm you. Give her the promise. Are your veins filled with water and caution?"

"What do you mean, Karl?" cried Max, stepping toward me with surprise and delight in his face. "Are you advising me wrongly for the first time in my life?" Then there was a touch of anger in his voice as he continued: "Have I blood in my veins? Aye, Karl, burning, seething blood, and every drop cries wildly for this girl--this child. I would give the half of it to make her my wife and to make her happy. But I would not abate one jot of my wretchedness at her expense. As I treat her I pray G.o.d to deal with me. I cannot make her my wife, and if I am half a man, I would not win her everlasting love and throw it to the dogs. She all but asked me last night to tell her of my love for her, and almost pressed hers upon me, but I did not even kiss her hand. Ah, Karl, I wish I were dead!"

The poor boy threw himself on the bed and buried his face in his hands.

I went to him and, seating myself on the bed, ran my fingers through his curls.

"My dear Max, I have never advised you wrongly. Perhaps luck has been with me. Perhaps my good advice has been owing to my great caution and my deep love for you. I am sure that I do not advise you wrongly now. Go to the bridge to-morrow night, and give Yolanda the promise she asks.

If she wants it, give her the ring. Keep restraint upon your words and acts, but do not fear for one single moment that my advice is wrong.

Max, I know whereof I speak."

Max rose from the bed and looked at me in surprise; but my advice jumped so entirely with the longing deep buried in his heart that he took it as a dying man accepts life.

The next evening Max met Yolanda under the trees near the bridge.

"I may remain but a moment," she said hurriedly and somewhat coldly. "Do you bring me the promise?"

"Yes," answered Max. "I have also brought you the ring, Fraulein, but you may not wear it, and no one may ever see it."

"Ah, Max, it is well that you have brought me the promise, for had you not you would never have seen me again. I thank you for the promise and for the ring. No one shall see it. Of that you may be doubly sure. If by any chance some meddlesome body should see it and tell this arrogant lady of the castle that I have the keepsake she sent you, there would be trouble, Max, there would be trouble. She is a jealous, vindictive little wretch and you shall not think on her. No doubt she would have me torn limb from limb if she knew I possessed the jewel. When I touch it, I feel that I almost hate this princess, whose vast estates have a power of attraction greater than any woman may exert."

There was real anger in her tone. In truth, dislike and aversion were manifest in every word she spoke of the princess, save when the tender little heart pitied her.

"Now I must say good night and adieu, Sir Max, until uncle returns,"