Yolanda had won.

CHAPTER XIX

MAX GOES TO WAR

The next morning at dawn our army marched. Although Duke Charles would not enc.u.mber himself with provisions for his men, he carried a vast train of carts filled with plate, silk tents, rich rugs, and precious jewels; for, with all his bravery, this duke's ruling pa.s.sion was the love of display in the presence of foreigners.

I shall not give the story of this disastrous war in detail; that lies in the province of history, and my story relates only to Max and Yolanda, and to the manner in which they were affected by the results of the war.

We marched with forty thousand men, and laid siege to the city of Granson, in the district of Vaud. The Swiss sent amba.s.sadors under a flag of truce, begging Charles to spare them, and saying, according to my friend Comines, that "there were among them no good prisoners to make, and that the spurs and horses' bits of the duke's army were worth more money than all the people of Switzerland could pay in ransoms, even if they were taken." Charles rejected all overtures, and on the third of March the brave little Swiss army sallied against us, "heralding their advances by the lowings of the Bull of Uri and the Cow of Unterwalden, two enormous instruments which had been given to their ancestors by Charlemagne."

G.o.d was against Charles of Burgundy, and his army was utterly routed by one of less than a fourth its size. I was with Charles after the battle, and his humiliation was more pitiful than his bursts of ungovernable wrath were disgusting. The king of France, hoping for this disaster, was near by at Lyons.

A cruel man is always despicable in misfortune. Charles at once sent to King Louis a conciliatory, fawning letter, recanting all that he had said in his last missive from Peronne, and expressing the hope that His Majesty would adhere to the treaty and would consent to the marriage of Princess Mary and the Dauphin at once. In this letter Yolanda had no opportunity to insert a disturbing "t." Louis answered graciously, saying that the treaty should be observed, and that the marriage should take place immediately upon the duke's return to Burgundy.

"We have already forwarded instructions to Paris," wrote King Louis, "directing that preparations be made at once for the celebration of this most desired union at the holy church of St. Denis. We wondered much at Your Grace's first missive, in which you so peremptorily desired us not to move in this matter till your return; and we wondered more at Your Lordship's ungracious reply to our answer in which we consented to the delay Your Grace had asked."

Well might King Louis wonder. Charles also wondered, and cursed the stupidity of the Bishop of Cambrai, who had so "enc.u.mbered his letter with senseless courtesy as to distort its meaning."

Charles despatched letters to Peronne and Ghent, ordering immediate preparations for the marriage. As usual, poor Mary was not considered of sufficient importance to receive notice of the event that concerned her so vitally. Others would prepare her, as one might fatten a lamb for slaughter. The lamb need not be consulted or even informed; the day of its fate would be sufficient for it. I was in despair. Max, in his ignorance, was indifferent.

After a short delay, the duke gathered his wrath and his army and laid siege to the town of Morat, announcing his intention to give no quarter, but to kill all, old and young, men, women, and children. The Swiss were prepared for us. "The energy of pride was going to be pitted against the energy of patriotism." Again disaster fell upon Charles. Thousands of his army were slain, and thousands fled in hopeless rout. His soldiers had never wanted to fight, and one man defending his hearth is stronger than half a score attacking it.

The loss of this battle drove Charles back to Burgundy. With a few of his train, including Max and myself, he retired to the Castle of La Riviera. Here he learned that Rene, Duke of Lorraine, had mustered his forces and had laid siege to Nancy, which city Charles had taken from Duke Rene, some years before, and had garrisoned with Burgundians and English. Upon hearing this unwelcome news, Charles began the arduous task of collecting another army. He was compelled to leave the neighborhood of Switzerland and fly to the rescue of Nancy.

The first of January found us before Nancy, but our arrival was three days too late. The city had capitulated to Duke Rene. On the fifth of January a battle was fought before Nancy, but Fortune had turned her back for all and all on this cruel Duke of Burgundy and Count of Charolois. The disasters at Granson and Morat were repeated. At nightfall Charles could not be found. I supposed that he had escaped, but the next morning his body was found by a washerwoman, frozen in the ice of a pond. He had been killed through the machinations of Campo-Ba.s.so. Duke Rene magnanimously gave Charles regal burial, and dismissed his followers without ransom. You may be sure I was eager to return to Peronne.

Fortune, in turning her back upon Charles, had turned her smiling face toward Max. Her ladyship's smiles were too precious to be wasted, so we made post-haste for Peronne, I spurred by one motive, Mary of Burgundy, Max by another--Yolanda. His heart had grieved for her in castle, in camp, and in din of battle. He had, unknown to me, formed a great and n.o.ble resolution; and there was no horse swift enough to keep pace with his desire when we started for Peronne.

I was the first to announce the duke's death. The dark news was given by me to the d.u.c.h.ess and the princess in Margaret's parlor. These poor women tried to grieve, but they were not hypocrites, and they could not weep. Each had received at Charles's hands only ill-usage and cruelty, and in their hearts they must have felt relief at his death.

"It was sure to come," said Margaret. "The duke's bravery led him always into danger. It is G.o.d's will, and it must be right."

The princess walked to the window, and said nothing, until I was about to leave; then she turned to me nervously and asked:--

"Did--did Sir Max come with you?"

I looked at her in surprise, and glanced inquiringly toward the d.u.c.h.ess.

"My mother knows all, Sir Karl," said the princess, rea.s.suringly. "There have been many things which I could not have done without her help. I have made many rapid changes, Sir Karl, from a princess to a burgher girl, and back again, and I should have failed without my mother's help.

I surely mystified you often before you knew of the stairway in the wall. Indeed, I have often hurried breathless to Uncle Castleman's house to deceive you. Mother invented a burgher girl's costume that I used to wear as an under-bodice and petticoat, so, you see, I have been visiting you in my petticoats. I will show you some fine day--perhaps. I have but to unfasten a half-score of hooks, and off drops the princess--I am Yolanda! I throw a skirt over my head, fasten the hooks of a bodice, don my head-dress, and behold! the princess once more. Only a moment intervenes between happiness and wretchedness. But tell me, Sir Karl, have you ever told Sir Max who I am?"

"Never, Your Highness--"

"Yolanda," she interrupted, correcting me smilingly.

"Never, Yolanda," I responded. "He does not even suspect that you are the princess. I shall be true to you. You know what you are doing."

"Indeed I do, Sir Karl," she replied. "I shall win or lose now in a short time and in short skirts. If Max will wed me as Yolanda, I shall be the happiest girl on earth. If not, I shall be the most wretched. If he learns that I am the princess, and if I must offer him the additional inducement of my estates and my domains to bring him to me, I shall not see him again, Sir Karl, if I die of grief for it."

I knew well what she meant, but I did not believe that she would be able to hold to her resolution if she were put to the test. I was, however, mistaken. With all my knowledge of the girl I did not know her strength.

We reached Peronne during the afternoon and, of course, went early the same evening to Castleman's.

We were greeted heartily by the good burgher, his wife, and his daughter. Twonette courtesied to Max, but when she came to me, this serene young G.o.ddess of pink and white offered me her cheek to kiss. I, who had pa.s.sed my quasi-priestly life without once enjoying such a luxury, touched the velvet cheek with my lips and actually felt a thrill of delight. Life among the burghers really was delicious. I tell you this as a marked ill.u.s.tration of the fact that a man never grows too old to be at times a fool. Twonette slipped from the room, and within fifteen minutes returned. She went directly to Max and said:--

"Some one is waiting for you in the oak room above."

She pointed the way, and Max climbed the stairs two steps at a time. I thought from his eagerness he would clear the entire flight at one bound. To his knock a soft voice bade him enter. The owner of the voice was sitting demurely at the farthest end of the room on a cushioned bench. Her back rested against the moving panel that led to the stairway in the wall. She did not move when Max entered. She had done all the moving she intended to do, and Max must now act for himself. He did. He ran down the long room to her, crying:--

"Yolanda! Yolanda!"

She rose to greet him, and he, taking her in his arms, covered her face with kisses. The unconscious violence of his great strength bruised and hurt her, but she gloried in the pain, and was pa.s.sive as a babe in his arms. When they were seated and half calm, she clutched one of his great fingers and said:--

"You kept your word, Little Max. You came back to me."

"Did you not know that I would come?" he asked.

"Ah, indeed, I knew--you are not one that makes a promise to break it.

Sometimes it is difficult to induce such a man to give his word, and I found it so, but once given it is worth having--worth having, Little Max."

She smiled up into his face while she spoke, as if to say, "You gave me a deal of trouble, but at last I have captured you."

"Did you so greatly desire the promise, Yolanda?" asked Max, solely for the pleasure of hearing her answer.

"Yes," she answered softly, hanging her head, "more than any _man_, can know. It must be an intense longing that will drive a modest girl to boldness, such as I have shown ever since the day I first met you at dear old Basel. It almost broke my heart when father--fatherland--when Burgundy made war on Switzerland." The word "land" was a lucky thought, and came to the girl just in the nick of time.

Max was too much interested in the girl to pay close attention to any slips she might make about the war with Switzerland. It is true he was now a soldier, and war was all right in its place; but there are things in life compared with which the wars of nations are trivial affairs. All subjects save one were unwelcome to him.

"Now I am going to ask a promise from you, Fraulein," said Max, loosening his hand from her grasp and placing his arm about her waist.

She offered no objections to the new situation, but blushed and looked down demurely to her folded hands.

"It will, I fear, be very easy for you, Max, to induce me to promise anything you wish. It will be all too easy, for I am not strong, as you are." She glanced into his face, but her eyes fell quickly to her hands.

"I shall soon leave you again, Fraulein, and what I wish is of such moment that I--I almost fear to ask."

"Yes, Max," she murmured, gently reaching across his knee, and placing her hand in his by way of encouragement.

"It is this, Fraulein. I am going back to Styria, and I want to carry with me your promise to be my wife," said Max, softly.

The girl's head fell over against his shoulder, and she clasped his free hand between both of hers.

"I will ask my father's consent," said Max. "I will tell him of you and of my great love, which is so great, Fraulein, that all the world is nothing beside it and beside you, and he will grant my request."

"But if he doesn't, Max?" asked the face hidden upon his breast.

"If he does not, Fraulein, I will forego my country and my estates. I will come back to you and will work in the fields, if need be, to make you as happy as you will make me."