"I have heard many conflicting stories concerning this Duke Charles,"

said Max. "Some persons say he is all that is brave and n.o.ble; others declare that he is fierce, pa.s.sionate, and bad. I wonder which I shall find him to be?"

"Do you expect to take service with him?" asked Yolanda, half sadly. At the mention of the duke's name all smiles and dimples fled incontinently.

"No," answered Max, "I think I shall not take service with the duke. In truth, I don't know what I shall do. For what purpose I am going to Burgundy I am sure I cannot say."

A short silence ensued, which was broken by Yolanda, speaking archly:--

"Perhaps you are going to Burgundy or to France to win the lady who gave you the ring?" Max was surprised, and flushed as he answered:--

"That would be an impossible thought, Fraulein. If you but knew who the lady is, you would understand that such a hope on my part were a phantasy. But I have no such hope or wish. I do not now want to win the lady of the ring."

"No, no, Sir Max," said Yolanda, protestingly, "you must not basely desert this lady-love whom you have never seen. If trouble should come to her, whoever she is, you must hasten to her rescue and carry her away. The best opportunity to rob, you know, comes in the midst of a melee. Take her, Sir Max. I wish you success."

"Do you really wish me success, Fraulein?" asked Max, looking straight ahead. He was not at all flattered by her good wishes concerning the lady of the ring.

"Indeed I do," responded the girl, joyously; "I will pray to the Virgin and ask her to help you to win this fair lady who gave you the ring."

"I thank you for your good wishes," returned Max, "though I could easily be satisfied with less enthusiasm on the subject."

"Indeed? Why, may I ask?"

"Because, Fraulein--because I had hoped--" Max ceased speaking, and, leaning forward, smoothed his horse's mane.

Yolanda waited for a moment and then, turning her face toward Max, asked:--

"You had hoped for what, Sir Max?"

"I had hoped for nothing, Fraulein," he answered. "I am satisfied as matters now stand between us. Your words at supper last evening rang in my ears all night, 'Chained to a throne; chained to a throne.' I knew you referred to my unhappy lot when you spoke, though how you guessed the truth concerning my station I do not know."

A surprised little smile spread over her face, but he did not see it. He was still smoothing his horse's mane.

"You cannot know the terrible truth of your words," continued Max. "I will tell you a part of my secret, Fraulein. All my life I have been cut off--chained to a throne--from the fellowship of men and the love of friends. Karl is the only friend I have ever known save my mother until I met you and your good people. Only the good G.o.d can know how I have longed and hungered since childhood for friendship; even for companionship. I did not know what I yearned for until since my arrival at Basel. Truly it is not good for man to be alone, even though he be upon a throne. I am not upon a throne, Fraulein, but I am near one--a small, barren throne, whose greatest attribute is its ancestry. My home is a sad, lonely place--how lonely even you, who have guessed so shrewdly and who speak so eloquently, cannot know. You should thank G.o.d for your lowly birth and your lowly friends."

"I do," the girl answered, with a queer, half-sad, half-amused expression upon her face which Max could not interpret.

"But we cannot break the chains that have been welded a thousand years--that have grown stronger and tighter with each generation," said Max. "You truthfully said, 'One may only endure.'"

"I also said that at rare moments one may hope," she answered, with drooping head.

"Not I, Fraulein. I may not even hope. I am doomed," answered Max.

"No, no, Sir Max," responded the drooping head.

After a prolonged silence Max said, "I am sure the secret of my station is safe with you."

"You need not doubt, Sir Max," she responded. "You cannot know how safe it is." She turned brightly upon him and continued, "Let me invoke my spirits, Sir Max." She raised her eyes, saint-fashion, toward heaven, and spoke under her breath: "I hear the word 'hope,' Sir Max, 'hope.' It is very faint, but better faint than not at all."

"I tell you there is no hope for me, Fraulein," responded Max, desperately. "It is cruel in you to say there is. It is doubly cruel to speak jestingly."

"I speak earnestly," said Yolanda. "There is hope. If you win the lady who gave you the ring, you will be happy. I do not jest."

"You do. You mock me," cried Max. "I tell you, Yolanda, there is in all the world no woman for me save--save one upon whom I may not think."

Yolanda's face grew radiant, though tears moistened her eyes. "Even though it were possible for me to defy my parents, to turn my face against my country, my people, and the sacred traditions of my house, by asking her to share my life, there could be only wretchedness ahead for her, and therefore unhappiness for me. The dove and the eagle may not mate. Consider the fate of sweet Agnes Bernauer, who married Duke Albert and perished in the Danube. I tell you, Fraulein, I am hopeless. When I return to my people, I shall do so knowing that life thereafter will be something to endure, not a blessing to thank G.o.d for."

"No, no, Sir Max," murmured the girl, "you do not know."

Max turned upon her almost angrily:--

"A man knows when he lives; a man knows when he is dying, and a man, if he be worthy of the name, knows when he loves a woman. I am not sure that the sun shines, Fraulein, than I am that I shall not forget this woman nor cease to sorrow for her all the days of my life."

"You must not speak such words to me, Sir Max," said Yolanda, reprovingly. "I, too, must live and be happy if--if I can."

She turned her face away from Max and, touching her horse with her whip, pa.s.sed a few feet ahead of him. If there were tears in her eyes, she did not wish Max to see them. After several minutes of silence he spurred his horse to her side.

"I did not intend to speak, Fraulein. I once said I would never speak again. I should not have spoken now, though I have told you only what you already know. I ask no favor in return, not even a touch from your hand."

"You shall have that at least, Sir Max," she answered, impulsively reining her horse close to Max and placing her hand in his.

"Still, you wish me to win the lady who sent me the ring?" asked Max.

"Yes," returned Yolanda, softly. "It will mean your happiness and mine--" Suddenly checking herself, she explained: "I shall be happy if you are. A man cannot know how happy a woman may be for another's sake."

I felt no desire to reprove Max when he told me of his day's adventure with Yolanda, since I could in no way remedy the evil. In fact, Max was growing out of my jurisdiction. He had listened to my lectures and advice since childhood and had taken them kindly, because my authority grew out of my love for him and his love for me. He was a boy when we left Styria, but he was a man when we were journeying down the Rhine.

Though the confidential relations between us had grown closer, my advice was gradually taking the form of consultation. I did not seek his confidences, and he gave them more freely, if that were possible, than ever before. I did not offer my advice so readily, but he sought it more frequently. Max told me the sorrowful little story of the day, and I did not comment on it. I simply led him in another direction.

"Fraulein Yolanda's words have given me food for thought," I said. "So long as Duke Charles lives, there can be no union between Burgundy and Hapsburg; but at the pace he is travelling he will surely receive his _coup de grace_ before long, and I hope you will meet and know the princess before the tragedy occurs. Then declare yourself and back your claim with the duke's proposal, which has never been withdrawn. That the people of Burgundy hate France and this French marriage there can be no doubt. They are fools for so doing, but we may easily profit by their lack of wisdom. In the event of the duke's death the inclinations of the princess will be half the battle. So long as he lives they are no part of it. If, by the help of Twonette, you should be so fortunate as to meet the princess, our dream may be realized, and our house may become the greatest in Europe."

"I suppose you are right, Karl," answered Max. "You are always right; but I have no heart in this matter, and I hope nothing will come of it.

I have never known you to be so cold-blooded as in this affair."

"If you are to be hot-blooded, or even warm-blooded, you must turn your back on your house and cast from you the duties and privileges of your birth," I observed.

"You are right," he answered irritably. "But it will be difficult for me to please one woman while thinking of another. Ah, Karl, I am growing tired of this Burgundian dream. Dream? It is almost a nightmare."

Max's words did not alarm me; he was "chained to a throne." He would not fail me if the hour of good fortune should come.

"Your thoughts of another woman will not stand in your way," I said.

"Experience is more necessary in dealing with women than in any other of life's affairs, and this episode with Yolanda is what you need to prepare you for--for what I pray you may have to do."

"Karl, please do not talk of this--this--my feeling for Yolanda as an episode," he said, speaking almost angrily. "It is a part of my life, and will be my sorrow as long as I live."

The boy's anger warned me that if I would lead him, I must do it gently.

"I believe, Max, you speak truly," I said; "but it will not be an unmixed evil. Good will come of it, since the image of a pure woman injures no man's heart. It keeps him in the narrow way and guides his hand for righteousness."

CHAPTER V