"Every one tries to make me unhappy," she sobbed. "There is no one to whom I may turn for kindness. If you will not do this for me, uncle, if you will not bring him--them--to me, I give you my sacred word I will go to them at the inn. If you force me to do an act so unmaidenly, I'll leave you and will not return to your house. I shall know that you do not love me!"

Castleman was not ready to yield, though he was sure that in the end he would do so. He also knew that her threat to go to the inn was by no means an idle word.

Yolanda was not given to tears, but she used them when she found she could accomplish her ends by no other means. A long pause ensued, broken by Yolanda's sobs.

"Good-by, uncle. Good-by, tante. Good-by, Twonette. I mean what I say, uncle. I am going, and I shall not come back if you will not do this thing for me. I am going to the inn."

She kissed them all and started toward the door. The loving old tante could not hold out. She, too, was weeping, and she added her supplications to Yolanda's.

"Do what she asks, father--only this once," said Frau Kate.

"Only this once," pleaded Yolanda, turning her tear-moistened eyes upon the helpless burgher.

"I suppose I must surrender," exclaimed Castleman, rising from his chair. "I have been surrendering to you, your aunt, and Twonette all my life. First Kate, then Twonette, and of late years they have been reenforced by you, Yolanda, and my day is lost. I do a little useless fighting when I know I am in the right, but it is always followed by a cowardly surrender."

"But think of your victories in surrender, uncle. Think of your rewards," cried Yolanda, running to his side and kissing him. "Many a man would fight a score of dragons for that kiss."

"Dragons!" cried Castleman, protestingly. "I would rather fight a hundred dragons than do this thing for you, Yolanda. I know little concerning the ways of a girl's heart, but, ignorant as I am, I could see--Mother, I never saw a girl so infatuated with a man as our Yolanda is with this Sir Max--this stranger."

"There, tante," cried Yolanda, turning triumphantly to Frau Kate, "you hear what uncle says. Now you see the great reason for having him here--this Sir Max and his friend. But, uncle, if you think I mean to make a fool of myself about this man, put the notion out of your head. I know only too well the barrier between us, but, uncle mine," she continued pleadingly, all her wonted joyousness driven from her face, "I am so wretched, so unhappy. If I may have a moment of joy now, for the love of the Blessed Virgin don't deny me. I sometimes think you love me chiefly because I so truly deserve your pity. As for this young man, he is gentle, strong, and good, and, as you say, he certainly is good to look upon. Twonette knows that, don't you, Twonette? He is wise, too, and brave, even against the impulse of his own great heart. He thinks only of my good and his own duties. I am in no danger from him, uncle.

He can do me only good. I shall be happier and better all my life long for having known him. Now, uncle?"

"I will fetch him," exclaimed Castleman, seeking his hat. "You may be right or you may be wrong, but for persuasiveness I never saw your like.

I declare, Yolanda, you have almost made me feel like a villain for refusing you."

"I wish the world were filled with such villains, uncle. Don't you, tante?" said Yolanda, beaming upon the burgher.

"No," answered the frau, "I should want them all for my husbands."

"G.o.d forbid!" cried Yolanda, lifting her hands as she turned toward the door, laughing once more. "Tell them to be here by six o'clock, uncle.

No! we will say five. Tell them to come on the stroke of five. No! four o'clock is better; then we will sup at six, and have an hour or two before we eat. That's it, uncle; have them here by four. Tell them to fail not by so much as a minute, upon their allegiance. Tell them to be here promptly on the stroke of four."

She ran from the room singing, and Castleman started toward the front door.

"The girl makes a fool of me whenever she wishes," he observed, pausing and turning toward his wife. "She coaxed me to take her to Basel, and life was a burden till I got her home again. Now she winds me around her finger and says, 'Uncle Castleman, obey me,' and I obey. Truly, there never was in all the world such another coaxing, persuasive little witch as our Yolanda."

"Poor child," said Frau Kate, as her husband pa.s.sed out of the door.

Castleman reached The Mitre near the hour of one, and of course did not find us. At half-past four, Yolanda entered the great oak room where Twonette and Frau Kate were st.i.tching tapestry.

"Where suppose you Sir Max is--and Sir Karl?" asked Yolanda, with a touch of anger in her voice. "Why has he not come? I have been watching but have not seen him--them. He places little value on our invitation to slight it by half an hour. I am of half a mind not to see him when he comes."

"Your uncle is downstairs under the arbor, Yolanda," said Frau Castleman, gently. "He will tell you, sweet one, why Sir Max is not here."

Frau Katherine and Twonette put aside their tapestry, and went with Yolanda to question Castleman in the arbor.

"Well, uncle, where are our guests?" asked Yolanda.

"They are not at the inn, and have not been there since nearly a fortnight ago," answered Castleman.

"Gone!" cried Yolanda, aflame with sudden anger. "He gave me his word he would not go. I'm glad he's gone, and I hope I may never see his face again. I deemed his word inviolate, and now he has broken it."

"Do not judge Sir Max too harshly," said Castleman; "you may wrong him.

I do not at all understand the absence of our friends. Grote tells me they went to the river one night to bathe and did not return. Their horses and arms are at the inn. Their squires, who had left them two hours before, have not been seen since. Grote has heard nothing of our friends that will throw light on their whereabouts. Fearing to get himself into trouble, he has stupidly held his tongue. He was not inclined to speak plainly even to me."

"Blessed Mother, forgive me!" cried Yolanda, sinking back upon a settle. After a long silence she continued: "Two weeks ago! That was a few days after the trouble at the bridge."

"What trouble?" asked Castleman.

"I'll tell you, uncle, and you, tante. Twonette already knows of it,"

answered Yolanda. "Less than three weeks ago I was with Sir Max near the moat bridge. It was dark--after night--"

"Yolanda!" exclaimed Castleman, reproachfully.

"Yes, uncle, I know I ought not to have been there, but I was," said Yolanda.

"Alone with Sir Max after dark?" asked the astonished burgher.

"Yes, alone with him, after it was _very_ dark," answered Yolanda. "I had met him several times before."

Castleman tried to speak, but Yolanda interrupted him:--

"Uncle, I know and admit the truth of all you would say, so don't say it. While I was standing very near to Sir Max, uncle, very near, Count Calli came upon us and offered me gross insult. Sir Max, being unarmed, knocked the fellow down, and in the struggle that ensued Count Calli's arm was broken. I heard the bone snap, then Calli, swearing vengeance, left us. Why Sir Max went out unarmed that night I do not know. Had he been armed he might have killed Calli; that would have prevented this trouble."

"I, too, wonder that Sir Max went out unarmed," said Castleman musingly.

"Why do you suppose he was so incautious?"

"Perhaps that is the custom in Styria. There may be less danger, less treachery, there than in Burgundy," suggested Yolanda.

"In Styria!" exclaimed Castleman. "Sir Karl said that he was from Italy.

He did not tell me of Sir Max's home, but I supposed he also was from Italy, or perhaps from Wurtemberg--there are many Guelphs in that country."

"Yes, I will tell you of that later, uncle," said Yolanda. "When Calli left us, Sir Max returned safely to the inn, having promised me not to leave Peronne within a month. This trouble has come from Calli and Campo-Ba.s.so."

"But you say this young man is from Styria?" asked Castleman, anxiously.

"Yes," replied Yolanda, drooping her head, "he is Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg."

"Great G.o.d!" exclaimed Castleman, starting to his feet excitedly. "If I have brought these men here to be murdered, I shall die of grief; all Europe will turn upon Burgundy."

Yolanda buried her face in Mother Kate's breast; Castleman walked to and fro, and sympathetic Twonette wept gently. It was not in Twonette's nature to do anything violently. Yolanda, on the contrary, was intense in all her joys and griefs.

"Did Sir Max tell you who he is?" asked Castleman, stopping in front of Yolanda.

"No," she replied, "I will tell you some day how I guessed it. He does not know that I know, and I would not have you tell him."

"Tell me, Yolanda," demanded Castleman, "what has pa.s.sed between you and this Sir Max?"

"Nothing, uncle, save that I know--ah, uncle, there is nothing. G.o.d pity me, there can be nothing. Whatever his great, true heart feels may be known to me as surely as if he had spoken a thousand vows, but he would not of his own accord so much as touch my hand or speak his love. He knows that one in his station may not mate with a burgher girl. He treats me as a true knight should treat a woman, and if he feels pain because of the gulf between us, he would not bring a like pain to me. He is a strong, n.o.ble man, Uncle Castleman, and we must save him."