Chapter 21

"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 passive 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, Fräulein," 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, Fräulein, 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, Fräulein. 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, Fräulein, 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, Fräulein, 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."

"There will be no need for that, Max," she answered, tears of happiness slowly trickling down her cheeks, "for I am rich."

"That I am sorry to hear," he responded.

"Don't you want to know who I am before you wed me?" she asked, after a long pause. She had almost made up her mind to tell him.

"That you may tell me when you are my wife," said Max. "I thought you were the Princess Mary, but I am almost glad that you are not. I soon knew that I was wrong, for I knew that you would not deceive me."

The girl winced and concluded to postpone telling her momentous secret. She was now afraid to do so. As a matter of fact, she had in her heart a healthy little touch of womanly cowardice on small occasions. After a long, delicious pause, Max said:--

"Have I your promise, Fräulein?"

"Y-e-s," she answered hesitatingly, "I will be your wife if--if I can, and if you will take me when you learn who I am. There is no taint of disgrace about me, Max," she added quickly, in response to the look of surprise on his face. "But I am not worthy of you, and I fear that if your father but knew my unworthiness, he would refuse his consent to our marriage. You must not tell him of my boldness. I will tell you all about myself before you leave for Styria, and then, if you do not want me, you may leave me to--to die."

"I shall want you, Yolanda. I shall want you. Have no doubt of that," he answered.

"With the assurance that there is no stain or taint upon me or my family, do you give me your word, Max, that you will want me and will take me, whoever I am, and will not by word or gesture show me that you are angry or that you regret your promise?"

"I gladly give you that promise," answered Max.

"Did you ever tell a lie, Little Max?" she asked banteringly, "or did you ever deliberately break a promise?"

"Did I ever steal or commit wilful murder?" asked Max, withdrawing his arm.

"No, Max; now put it back again," she said.

After a long pause she continued:--

"I have lied."

Max laughed and drew her to him.

"Your lies will harm no one," he said joyously.

"No," she responded, "I only lie that good may come of it."

Then silence fell upon the world--their world. Was not that hour with Max worth all the pains that Yolanda had taken to deceive him?

Yolanda and Max came down to the long room, and she, too, gave me her cheek to kiss.

Twonette had prepared a great tankard of wine and honey, with pepper and allspice to suit Yolanda's taste, and we all sat before the great blazing yule fire, as joyful and content as any six people in Christendom. Twonette and Yolanda together occupied one large chair; Twonette serenely allowing herself to be caressed by Yolanda, who was in a state of mind that compelled her to caress some one. Gentle Frau Kate was sleeping in a great easy chair near the chimney-corner. Max sat at one side of the table,--the side nearest Yolanda,--while Castleman and I sat by each other within easy reach of the wine. I knew without the telling, all that had occurred upstairs, and the same light seemed to have fallen upon the Castlemans. Good old George was in high spirits, and I could see in his eye that he intended to get drunk and, if possible, to bring me, also, to that happy condition. After many goblets of wine, he remarked:--

"The king of France will probably be upon us within a fortnight after he hears the sad news from Nancy."

Yolanda immediately sat upright in her chair, abandoning Twonette's soft hand and softer cheek.

"Why do you believe so, uncle?" she asked nervously.

"Because he has waited all his life for this untoward event to happen."

"Preparations should be made to receive him," said Yolanda.

"Ah, yes," replied Castleman, "but Burgundy's army is scattered to the four winds. It has given its blood for causes in which its heart was not. We lack the strong arm of the duke, to force men to battle against their will. King Louis must be fought by policy, not by armies; and Hymbercourt is absent."

"Do you know aught of him, Sir Karl?" asked Yolanda.

"I do not, Fräulein," I answered, "save that he was alive and well when we left Nancy."

"That, at least, is good news," she replied, "and I make sure he will soon come to Burgundy's help."

"I am sure he is now on his way," I answered.

"What can Burgundy do?" she asked, turning to Castleman and me. "You will each advise--advise the princess, I hope."

"If she wishes my poor advice," I responded, "she has but to ask it."

"And mine," said Castleman, tipping his goblet over his nose.

"If we are to have clear heads to-morrow," I suggested, "we must drink no more wine to-night. The counsel of wine is the advice of the devil."

"Right you are, Sir Karl. Only one more goblet. Here's to the health of the bride to be," said Castleman.

Yolanda leaned back in her chair beside Twonette, and her face wore a curious combination of smile and pout.

On the way to the inn, Max, who was of course very happy, told me what had happened in the oak room and added:--

"I look to you, Karl, to help me with father."

"That I will certainly do," I answered. I could not resist saying: "We came to Burgundy with the hope of winning the princess. Fortune has opened a door for you by the death of her father. Don't you wish to try?"

"No," said Max, turning on me. A moment later he added, "If Yolanda were but the princess, as I once believed she was, what a romance our journey to Burgundy would make!"

My spirits were somewhat dampened by Castleman's words concerning the French king. Surely they were true, since King Louis was the last man in Europe to forego the opportunity presented by the death of Charles. Should the Princess Mary lose Burgundy just at the time when Max had won her, my disappointment would indeed be great, and Max might truly need my help with his father.