Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy

by Charles Major

  CHAPTER XVIII

  YOLANDA OR THE PRINCESS?

  After these adventures we could no longer conceal Max's identity, and itsoon became noised about that he was Count of Hapsburg. But Styria wasso far away, and so little known, even to courtiers of considerablerank, that the fact made no great stir in Peronne. To Frau Kate andTwonette the disclosure came with almost paralyzing effect.

  The duke remained with us until late in the night, so Max and I did notgo over to the House under the Wall. When we were alone in our room,Max said:

  "The Princess Mary has treated me as if I were a boy."

  "She saved your life," I returned. "Calli would certainly have killedyou had she not acted quickly."

  "I surely owe her my life," said Max, "though I have little knowledge ofwhat happened after I fell from my horse until I rose to my feet by herhelp. I complain of her conduct in deceiving me by pretending to be aburgher maiden. It was easily done, Karl, but ungraciously."

  "You are now speaking of Yolanda," I said, not knowing what the wishesof the princess might be in regard to enlightening him. He looked at meand answered:--

  "Karl, if a woman's face is burned on a man's heart, he knows it when hesees it."

  "You know Yolanda's face, certainly, and I doubt if Yolanda will thankyou for mistaking another's for it."

  "I have made no mistake, Karl," he answered.

  "I am not so sure," I replied. "The girl you placed in my arms seemedtaller by half a head than Yolanda. I noticed her while she wasstanding. She seemed rounder and much heavier in form; but I, too,thought she was Yolanda, and, after all, you may be right."

  "I caught but a glimpse of her face, and that poorly," said Max. "It isdifficult to see anything looking downward out of a helmet; one mustlook straight ahead. But the glimpse I had of her face satisfied me."

  "Do not be too sure, Max. I once took another man for myself." Maxlaughed. "I am sure no one could have told us apart. He was the Pope,and I his cousin. Yolanda herself once told me--I believe she has alsotold you--that she has the honor to resemble the princess."

  I did not wish to lie to Max, and you will note that I did not say theprincess was not Yolanda. Still, I wished him to remain ignorant uponthe important question until Yolanda should see fit to enlighten him. Iwas not sure of her motive in maintaining the alias, though I wascertain it was more than a mere whim. How great it was I could not know.Should she persist in it I would help her up to the point of telling Maxa downright falsehood. There I would stop.

  We spent two evenings at Castleman's, but did not see Yolanda. On thefirst evening, after an hour of listlessness, Max hesitatingly asked:--

  "Where is Yo--that is, the princess has not been here this evening."

  "The princess!" exclaimed Frau Kate. "No, she has not been here thisevening--nor the duke, nor the king of France. No titled person, SirCount, save yourself, has honored us to-day. Our poor roof sheltersfew such."

  "I mean Yolanda," said Max. Good-natured Frau Kate laughed softly, andTwonette said, with smiling serenity:--

  "Yolanda's head will surely be turned, Sir Count, when she hears youhave called her the princess. So much greatness thrust upon her willmake it impossible for us to live with her."

  "She rules us all as it is, sweet soul," said Castleman.

  "Yolanda is ill upstairs, Sir Count," said Frau Kate. "She wanted tocome down this evening, but I commanded otherwise. Twonette, go to her.She will be lonely."

  Twonette rose, courtesied, and departed. This splendid bit of actingalmost made me doubt that Yolanda was the princess, and it shook Max'sconviction to its very foundation.

  I wish to warn you that the deception practised upon Max by Yolanda willseem almost impossible, except on the hypothesis that Max was a verysimple fellow. But the elaborate scheme designed and executed by thisgirl, with the help of the Castlemans and myself,--all of whom Max hadno reason to distrust,--would have deceived any man. Max, though simpleand confiding where he trusted,--judging others' good faith by hisown,--was shrewd for his years, and this plan of Yolanda's had to befaultless, as it really was, to mislead him.

  On the morning of the fourth day after the trial by combat, Yolanda madeher appearance at Castleman's, looking pale and large-eyed. Max and Ihad walked down to the House under the Wall before going to dine withthe duke. Soon after we were seated Twonette left, and within fiveminutes Yolanda came suddenly upon us in the long parlor. She ran toMax, grasping both his hands. For a moment she could only say, "Max,Max," and he remained silent.

  When she recovered control of her voice she said:--

  "How proud we are of you, Sir Max! Uncle and aunt have told me howbrave and merciful you were at the combat."

  "Your Highness surely knows all that can be told on the subject, sinceyou were there and took so active a part in the adventure," answeredMax. "It is I who should be grateful, and I am. I owe my life to YourHighness."

  "You honor me too much, Sir Max," said Yolanda, looking up with surpriseand bowing low before him. "Let my elevation be gradual that I may growaccustomed to my rank. Make of me first a great lady, and then, say, acountess. Afterward, if I prove worthy, call me princess."

  "We will call you a princess now, Your Highness," answered Max, not tobe driven from his position.

  "Very well," cried Yolanda, with a laugh and a sweeping courtesy. "Ifyou will have me a princess, a princess I'll be. But I will not be thePrincess of Burgundy. She saved your life, and I am jealous of her--Ihate her."

  She stamped her foot, and the angry gleam in her eyes was genuine. Therecould be no doubt that she was jealous of the princess. I could notaccount for her unique attitude toward herself save on one hypothesis:she was, even to herself, two distinct persons. Yolanda was a happyburgher girl; Mary was a wretched princess. The two widely differingconditions under which she lived were so distinct, and were separated bya gulf so broad, that to her the princess and the burgher girl were inno way related.

  With change of condition there was always a change of person. Theunhappy princess would come down the stairway in the wall; God wouldkindly touch her, and lo! she was transformed into a happy Yolanda.Yolanda's light feet would climb the dark stone steps, and God was oncemore a frowning father. There must also be added Max's share in heremotions. Perhaps she feared the princess as she would have dreaded arival; since she longed with all her passionate, tender heart to win Maxfor herself only. It would have been an easy task, as princess, to winhim or any man; but if she could win him as Yolanda, the burgher girl,the prize would be the greatest that could fall to a woman.

  The true situation dawned upon me as I stood before Max and watchedYolanda. I thought of her adroit plan to make trouble with France, and Iwanted to shout for joy. The impossible might yet happen. God's handsurely had been in our journeying to Burgundy. Max might yet win thispeerless princess, this priceless girl; or, reverse it if you choose,Mary of Burgundy might win this peerless man, and might at the same timeattain the unutterable joy of knowing that she had won him for herown sake.

  Perhaps her yearning had led her to hope that he might in the end bewilling to fling behind him his high estate for the sake of a burghergirl. Then, when she had brought him to that resolution, what a joy itwould be to turn upon him and say: "I am not a burgher girl. I amPrincess Mary of Burgundy, and all these things which you are willing toforego for my sake you may keep, and you may add to them the fair landof Burgundy!" Her high estate and rich domains, now the tokens of herthralldom, would then be her joy, since she could give them to Max.

  While these bright hopes were filling my mind, Yolanda was playing wellher part. She, too, evidently meant to tell no lies, though she might beforced to act many. Her fiery outburst against the Princess of Burgundyastonished Max and almost startled me. Still, the conviction was strongwith him that Yolanda was Mary.

  "If--if you are the princess, Yo--Yolanda," said Max, evidentlywavering, "it were ungracious to deceive me."

  "But I _am_ the princess," cried Yolanda,
lifting her head and walkingmajestically to and fro. "Address me not by that low, plebeianname, Yolanda."

  She stepped upon a chair and thence to the top of the great oak tablethat stood in the middle of the room. Drawing the chair up after her sheplaced it on the table, and, seating herself on this improvised throne,lifted one knee over the other, after the manner of her father. Shelooked serenely about her in a most amusing imitation of the duke, andspoke with a deep voice:--

  "Heralds!"

  No one responded. So she filled the office of herald herself and criedout:--

  "Oyez! Oyez! The princess now gives audience!" Resuming the ducal voice,she continued, "Are there complaints, my Lord Seneschal?" A pause. "Ah,our guards have stolen Grion's cow, have they? The devil take Grion andhis cow, too! Hang Grion for complaining." A pause ensues while the dukeawaits the next report. "The Swiss have stolen a sheepskin? Ah, we'llskin the Swiss. My Lord Seneschal, find me fifty thousand men who areready to die for a sheepskin. Body of me! A sheepskin! I do loveit well."

  Yolanda's audience was roaring with laughter by this time, but her facewas stern and calm.

  "Silence, you fools," she cried hoarsely, but no one was silent, and Maxlaughed till the tears came to his eyes. Yolanda on her throne was soirresistibly bewitching that he ran to her side, grasped her about thewaist, and unceremoniously lifted her to the floor. When she was on herfeet, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, saying:--

  "Yolanda or Mary--it's all one to me. There is not another like you inall the world."

  She drew herself up haughtily: "Sir, this indignity shall cost youdear," and turning her back on him she moved away three or four paces.Then she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. His face had lost itssmile, and she knew the joke had gone far enough; so the dimples beganto cluster about the quivering corners of her mouth, the long blacklashes fell for a moment, a soft radiance came to her eyes, andshe asked:--

  "Which shall it be, Sir Max, Yolanda or the princess?"

  "Yolanda," cried Max, huskily, while he held out his hands to her. Quickas the movement of a kitten, she sprang to him and allowed his arms toclose about her for one brief moment. While one might count ten sherested her head on his breast, but all too quickly she turned her faceto his and whispered:--

  "Are you sure? Is it Yolanda?"

  "Yes, yes, Yolanda. Thank God! it is Yolanda," he replied, placing hishand before his eyes. She slipped from his arms, and Max, too deeplymoved to speak, walked over to the window and looked out upon thefrowning walls of Peronne the Impregnable. There was irony for you!

  Probably Max was not sure that Yolanda was Yolanda; but, if he was,conviction had come through his emotions, and it might be temporary. Hewas, however, soon to be convinced by evidence so cunningly constructedthat he was compelled to abandon the testimony of his own eyes andaccept that of seemingly incontestable facts.

  "We are to dine privately with the duke at twelve o'clock," I said,while Max was standing at the window.

  "Indeed?" asked Yolanda, arching her eyebrows; surprise and displeasureevident in her voice. She glanced at the great clock, then looked towardMax, and said:--

  "It lacks but thirty minutes of that time now, and I suppose I shallsoon lose you."

  Max turned from the window, saying:--"Yes, we must go, or we shall belate."

  "Does the princess dine with you?" asked Yolanda.

  "I do not know, Fraeulein," answered Max. Thereupon Yolanda left the roompouting, and we took our departure, having promised to return toCastleman's after dinner.

  We went at once to the castle; and thirty minutes after leavingCastleman's we were in the small parlor or talking room of DuchessMargaret, where the famous letter to the king of France had been signedby Duke Charles. When we entered we saw the duchess and the princesssitting upon the divan. The duke was in his great oak chair, andHymbercourt and two other gentlemen were standing near by. I madeobeisance to Charles on bended knee. He rose to receive Max, and, aftera slight hesitation, offered his hand, saying:--

  "You are welcome, my Lord Count."

  A year had passed since I had heard Max addressed as "my lord," and thewords sounded strange to my ears. I turned quickly toward the princess,expecting to see a sparkle of mirth in her eyes, but Yolanda's everpresent smile was wholly lacking. The countenance of the princess wascalm, immovable, and expressionless as a mirror. I could hardly believethat it was the radiant, bedimpled, pouting face I had just seen atCastleman's, and for the first time in all my experience I realized thatI was face to face with a dual personality. The transformation was socomplete that I might easily have been duped had I not known beyondperadventure the identity of Yolanda and Mary.

  After the duke had kindly saluted Max, His Grace presented us to theladies. When the princess rose to receive us, she seemed at least half ahead taller than Yolanda. Her hair was hidden, and her face seemedfuller. These changes were probably wrought by her head-dress, whichtowered in two great curved horns twelve inches high. She wore a long,flowing gown that trailed two yards behind her, and this added to herapparent height. Max had seen Yolanda only in the short skirts of aburgher girl's costume.

  When Max rose, after kneeling before the princess, he gazed into hereyes, but the glance he received in return was calm and cold. Yolandawas rich, red wine, hot and strong; the princess was cold, clear water.The one was exhilarating, at times intoxicating; the other was chilling.The face of the princess, though beautiful, was touched with disdain.Every attitude was one of dignity and hauteur. Her words, though notlacking intelligence, were commonplace, and her voice was that of herfather's daughter. Yolanda was a girl; the princess was a woman. Themetamorphosis was complete, and Max's hallucination, I felt sure, wouldbe cured. The princess's face was not burned on his heart, whatevermight be true of Yolanda's. I can give no stronger testimony to themarvellous quality of the change this girl had wrought in herself thanto tell you that even I began to doubt, and wonder if Yolanda hadtricked me. The effect on Max was instantaneous. After looking into theprincess's face, he said:--

  "I wish to thank Your Highness for saving my life. I surely had beenkilled but for your timely help."

  The situation bordered on the ridiculous.

  "Do not thank me, my Lord Count," responded the princess, in cold andmeasured words. "I should have done the same for any man in your hardcase. I once saved a yokel in like manner. Two common men were fightingwith staves. One would have beaten the other to death had I not enteredthe lists and parted them. Father feared a similar exhibition on my partand did not wish me to attend your combat. He says now that I shall goto no more. I certainly made myself ridiculous. I enjoy a fair fight,whatever the outcome may be, but I despise murder. My act was entirelyimpersonal, Sir Count."

  "On the lists I addressed Your Highness as 'Yolanda,'" said Max. "Yourresemblance to one whom I know well was so great as to deceive me."

  I was eager to take Max away from the dangerous situation, but I couldnot. The duke, the courtiers, and myself had moved several paces fromMax and the princess. I, however, kept my eyes and ears open to whatoccurred between them.

  "Yes," returned the princess, haughtily, "I remember you so addressedme. I have heard of the person to whom you refer. She is, I believe, aniece of one Castleman, a burgher of Peronne. I know Castleman'sdaughter--a simple creature, with no pretence of being else. It has beensaid that--what do they call her? Yolanda, I believe--resembles me insome respects and is quite proud of the distinction. I am sure I thankno one for the compliment, since she is a low creature, but I acceptyour apology, my Lord Count."

  "I do not apologize, Your Highness," answered Max, in tones of equalhauteur. "You probably do not know the lady of whom you speak."

  The princess seemed to increase by an inch or two in stature as she drewherself up, and answered:--

  "Of course we do not know her."

  "If you knew her, Your Highness would apologize," retorted Max.

  Seeing the angry color mounting to his face, I steppe
d to his side andjoined in the conversation. Presently dinner was announced, and Irejoiced when we parted from the princess. Turning our faces toward theladies, we moved backward from the room, and went with the duke to thedinner hall.

  Compared with Castleman's daily fare, the duke's dinner was almostunpalatable. We had coarse beef, coarse boar's meat, coarse bread,--notblack, but brown. Frau Kate's bread was like snow. The sour wine on theduke's table set our teeth on edge, though it was served in huge goldengoblets studded with rare gems. At each guest's plate was a jewelleddagger. The tablecloth was of rich silk, soiled by numberless stains.Leeks and garlic were the only vegetables served.

  Nothing of importance occurred at the table, but after dinner the dukeabruptly offered Max a large sum of gold to accompany him toSwitzerland. Max thanked His Grace and said he would give him an answersoon. The duke urged an early reply, and Max said:--

  "With Your Grace's permission we will attend to-morrow's morningaudience, and will make our answer after Your Lordship has risen."

  Charles acquiesced, and we soon left the castle. The duke, as I havealready told you, was very rich. Hymbercourt once told me that he hadtwo hundred and fifty thousand gold crowns in his coffers at Luxembourg.That was probably more than the combined treasuries of any two kings inEurope could show. Max and I were short of money, and the sum that theduke offered seemed enormous. Neither Max nor his father, DukeFrederick, had ever possessed as much money at one time.

  While we were leisurely walking across the courtyard toward the Postern,three ladies and two gentlemen, accompanied by outriders and pagescarrying falcons, rode by us and passed out through the Postern. Wefollowed, and overtook them at the town end of the drawbridge, wherethey had halted. When we came up to them, we recognized the duchess andthe princess. The duchess bowed smilingly, but the princess did notspeak, though she looked in our direction.

  The cavalcade turned to the left, and went up a narrow street towardCambrai Gate, evidently bound for the marshes. Max and I walked straightahead toward the Cologne bridge, intending, as we had promised, to goback to Castleman's. Two hundred yards up the street I glanced back, andsaw a lady riding through the Postern, back to the castle. I knew atonce that the princess had returned, and I was sure of meetingYolanda,--sweet, smiling, tender Yolanda,--at the dear old House underthe Wall. I did not like the princess; she was cold, haughty,supercilious, and perhaps tinged with her father's cruelty. I longedardently for Yolanda to come out of her skin, and my heart leaped withjoy at the early prospect.

  I was right in my surmise. Yolanda's sweet face, radiant with smiles andsoft with dimples, was pressed against the window-pane watching for uswhen we crossed the moat bridge at Castleman's door.

  "To see her face again is like coming back to heaven; isn't it, Karl?"said Max.

  Yolanda ran to the door and opened it.

  "I am glad you did not stay with her," she said, giving a hand to Maxand to me, and walking into the room between us. She was like a childholding our hands.

  I had seen the world and its people in all its phases, and I pridedmyself on my shrewdness, but without my knowledge of the stairway in thewall, I would have sworn that Yolanda had played a trick on me byleading me to believe that she was the Princess Mary. Even with fullknowledge of all the facts, I found myself doubting. It is small causefor wonder, therefore, that Max was deceived.

  "Uncle is at the shop," said Yolanda. "Tante is at a neighbor's, andTwonette, of course, is asleep. We three will sit here on this benchwith no one to disturb us, and I shall have you both all to myself. No!There! I'll sit between you. Now, this is delightful."

  She sat between us, crossed her knees--an unpardonable crime, Frau Katewould have thought--and giving a hand to Max and to me, saidcontentedly:--

  "Now, tell me all about it."

  I was actually on the point of beginning a narrative of our adventures,just as if she did not already know them,--so great was the spell shehad thrown over me,--when Max spoke:--

  "We had a poor dinner, but a kind host, therefore a fine feast. The dukehas asked us to go to Switzerland with him. Judging by the enormous sumhe offers for our poor services, he must believe that he will need noother help to conquer the Swiss."

  "Yes--yes, that is interesting," said Yolanda, hastily, "but theprincess--tell me of her."

  "She is a very beautiful princess," answered Max.

  "Yes--I suppose she is," answered Yolanda. "I have it dinned into myears till I ought to believe it; but tell me of her manner, herconversation, her temper. What of them?"

  "She is a most beautiful princess," answered Max, evidently intending toutter no word against Her Highness, though as a matter of fact he didnot like her at all. "I am sure she deserves all the good that famespeaks of her."

  Yolanda flung our hands from her, sprang to her feet, and faced usangrily.

  "That's the way with all men. A rich princess, even though she be a colddevil, is beautiful and good and gentle and wise and true and quick ofwit. Men care not what she is if her house be great and rich andpowerful. If her domains are fat and broad, she deserves 'all the goodthat fame speaks of her.' She can win no man for herself. She cannottouch a man's heart; she can only satisfy his greed. You went to thecastle, Sir Max, to see this princess. You want Burgundy. That is whyyou are in Peronne!"

  The girl's passionate outburst was sincere, and showed me her truemotive for deceiving Max. Her plan was not the outgrowth of a whim; itwas the result of a tremendous motive conceived in the depths of hersoul. She had found the man she loved, and was taking her own way to winhim, if she could, for herself. She judged all men by the standard thatshe had just announced. She would never believe in the love of a man whoshould woo her as Princess Mary of Burgundy.

  Her words came near accomplishing more than she desired. When shestopped speaking, Max leaned forward and gently took her hand.

  "Yolanda, this princess is nothing to me, and I swear to you that I willnever ask her to marry--"

  A frightened gleam came to the girl's eyes when she understood the oaththat Max was about to take, and she quickly placed her hand over hismouth. Max was swearing too much.

  "You shall not make that oath, Little Max," she said. "You shall not saythat you will never marry her, nor shall you say that you will nevermarry any one else. You must remain free to choose the right wife whenthe right time comes. You must tread the path that God has marked outfor you. Perhaps it leads to this princess; no one can tell. If so, youmust accept your fate, Sir Max." She sighed at the mere thought of sountoward a fate for Max.

  "I need make no oath not to marry the princess," answered Max. "She isbeyond my reach, even though I were dying for love of her."

  "And you are not dying for love of her, are you?" asked Yolanda, againtaking the seat between Max and me.

  "No," he responded.

  "Nor for love of any woman?" she asked, looking toward Max.

  "I'll not say that," he replied, laughing softly, and taking her handsbetween his.

  "No, no," she mused, looking in revery out the window. "No, we will notsay that."

  I have always been as unsentimental as a man well can be, but I believe,had I been in Max's place, I should have thrown away my crown for thesake of Yolanda, the burgher girl. I remember wondering if Max would bestrong enough finally to reach the same conclusion. If he should be, myfaith in Yolanda's powers led me to believe that she would contrive aplan to make him her husband, despite her father, or the devil andall his imps.

  There is a power of finesse in the feminine mind that no man may fullycompass, and Yolanda, in that respect, was the flower of her sex. Thatshe had been able to maintain her humble personality with Max, despitethe fact that she had been compelled to meet him twice as princess,proved her ability. Of course, she had the help of good old Castlemanand his sweet Frau Kate, serene Twonette, and myself; but with all thishelp she probably would have failed without the stairway in the wall.

  When we left Castleman's, I did not bring up the subject
of Mary andYolanda. Max walked silently beside me until we had nearly reached theinn, when he said:--

  "I am almost glad I was wrong, Karl. I would not have Yolanda otherthan she is. At times, wild thoughts suggest themselves to me; but I amnot so weak as to give way to them. I drive them off and clench myteeth, determined to take the misery God doles out to me. I am glad weare soon to leave Burgundy. The duke marches in three days, and it isnone too soon for me."

  "Shall not we return to Burgundy?" I asked. "I want you to see Paris andBrussels, and, if possible, London before we return to Styria. Don't youthink it best that we come back to Peronne after this war?"

  "You are right, Karl; we must come back," he answered. "I do not fearYolanda. I am not weak."

  "I sometimes wonder if we know our strength from our weakness," Isuggested. "There is doubtless much energy wasted by conscientious menstriving in the wrong direction, who fancy they are doing their duty."

  "You would not have me marry Yolanda?" asked Max, a gleam of lightcoming to his eyes.

  "I do not know, Max," I responded. "A rare thing has happened to you.You have won a marvellous love from a marvellous woman. She takes nopains to conceal it. She could not hide it if she would. What you feel,only you and God know."

  "Only God," cried Max, huskily. "Only God. I cannot measure it."

  "My dear boy," said I, taking his arm, "you are at a point where youmust decide for yourself."

  "I have decided," returned Max. "If my father and mother were notliving, I might--I might--bah! there is but one life for me. I amdoomed. I make myself wretched by resistance."

  "When we return to Peronne, you will know your mind," I answeredsoothingly.

  "I know my mind now," he answered. "I know that I would give half theyears of my life to possess Yolanda; but I also know the fate that Godhas marked out for me."

  "Then you know more than many a wise man thrice your age can boast,"said I.

  * * * * *

  The duke's armies had been gathering throughout Burgundy. Men had comein great numbers to camp near Peronne, and the town was noisy withmartial preparations. Contrary to Hymbercourt's advice, the duke wasleaving Peronne Castle guarded by only a small garrison. Charles hadgreat faith in the strength of Peronne the Impregnable, and, although itwas near the French border, he trusted in its strength and in his treatywith King Louis. He knew from experience that a treaty with Louis wouldbind that crafty monarch only so long as it was to his interest toremain bound; but Louis' interest in maintaining the treaty seemedgreater than Burgundy's, and Charles rested on that fact. Peronne was tobe left captained by the duchess and Mary, and garrisoned by five scoremen-at-arms, who were either too old or too young to go to war.

  Without discussing the duke's offer, Max and I decided to accept it,though for different reasons. Max needed the gold; he also sniffedbattle, and wanted the excitement and the enterprise of war. I had allhis reasons, and still another; I wanted to give Yolanda time to executeher plans.

  The war with Switzerland would probably be short. Max would be with theduke, and would, I hoped, augment the favor with which Charles alreadyhonored him. Should Yolanda's letter make trouble with France, DukeCharles might be induced, through his personal feelings, to listen toMax's suit. If Charles returned from Switzerland victorious--and noother outcome seemed possible--he would no longer have reason to carryout the marriage treaty with France. It had been made largely for thepurpose of keeping Louis quiet while Charles was absent. Anything mighthappen; everything might happen, while Max was with Charles inSwitzerland and Yolanda at home making trouble with France.

  The next day, by appointment, we waited on the duke at the morningaudience. When we entered the great hall, the urgent business had beentransacted, and half a score of lords and gentlemen stood near the dais,discussing some topic with the duke and with one another. We moved nearthe throne, and I heard Charles say to Campo-Basso and Hymbercourt:--

  "Almost three weeks have passed since our message to France, and we havehad no answer. What think you, gentlemen, of the delay?"

  "His Majesty is not in Paris, or delays answering," said Hymbercourt.

  "By the Host, if I could think that King Louis were holding Byron anddelaying an answer, I would change my plans and march on Paris ratherthan on Switzerland."

  "I fear, my lord," said Campo-Basso, with a sympathetic desire to maketrouble, if possible, "that His Majesty delays an answer while he framesone that shall be elusive, yet conciliatory. King Louis, Your Graceknows, thinks many times before each word he speaks or writes."

  "If he has intentionally delayed this answer, I'll give him cause tothink many times _after_ his words," said Charles.

  Conversations of like nature had occurred on several occasions since thesending of the missive to Louis, and they offered the stormy dukeopportunity to vent his boastfulness and spleen. While Charles waspouring out his wrath against his brother-in-law, Byron, the herald,appeared at the door of the great hall. He announced himself, and, whenordered to approach, ran to the dais, kneeled on the second step, andplaced a small sealed packet in the duke's hand.

  "Did you find King Louis at Paris?" asked the duke, addressing Byron.

  "I did, my lord."

  "Paris is but thirty leagues distant, and you certainly have hadsufficient time since leaving us to journey across Europe and back. Didnot I command you to make haste?"

  "You did, my lord," answered the herald. "King Louis put me off from dayto day, always promising me an answer, but giving it only yesterdayafternoon when the sun was half below the horizon."

  Charles nervously broke the seals of the package, and attempted to readthe letter. He failed, and handed it to Campo-Basso, saying:--

  "Read the missive. I already know its contents, but read, my lord,read."

  Campo-Basso read the letter.

  "To Our Most Illustrious Brother Charles Duke of Burgundy, and Count ofCharolois:--

  "We recommend us and send Your Grace greeting. We are anxious topleasure our noble brother of Burgundy in all things, and heartilydesire the marriage between our son and the illustrious Princess ofBurgundy, but we shall not move toward it until our said noble brothershall return from Switzerland, nor will we do aught to distract hisattention from the perilous business he now has on hand. We pray thatthe saints may favor his design, and would especially recommend that ournoble brother propitiate with prayers and offerings the holy SaintHubert. We, ourselves, have importuned this holy saint, and he hasproved marvellously helpful on parlous occasions.

  "Louis, R."

  The duke's anger was terrible and disgusting to behold. When histransports of rage allowed him to speak, he broke forth with oaths tooblasphemous to write on a white page.

  "The fawning hypocrite!" he cried. "He thinks to cozen us with his cheapwords. The biting insult in his missive is that he takes it for grantedthat we are so great a fool as to believe him. Even his recommendationof a saint is a lie. The world knows his favorite saint is Saint Andrew.King Louis spends half his time grovelling on his marrow bones beforethat saint and the Blessed Virgin. He recommends to us Saint Hubert,believing that his holy saintship will be of no avail."

  Charles was right. Sir Philip de Comines, seneschal to King Louis,afterward told me that His Majesty, in writing this letter to the Dukeof Burgundy, actually took counsel and devoted much time and thought tothe choice of a baneful or impotent saint to recommend to his "noblebrother of Burgundy." Disaster to Louis had once followed supplicationto Saint Hubert, and the king hoped that the worthy saint might proveequally unpropitious for Charles. Yolanda's wonderful "t" was certainlythe most stupendous single letter ever quilled. Here were thefirst-fruits of it.

  "Were it not that these self-sufficient Swiss need to be blooded, Iwould turn my army against France to-morrow," said the duke.

  "And have Bourbon and Lorraine upon Your Lordship's back from the east,Ghent rebelling in the north, and the Swiss pouring in from the south,"interrupted Hymbercourt
.

  "You are certainly right, my Lord d'Hymbercourt," replied Charles,sullenly. "They surround us like a pack of starved wolves, ready tospring upon us the moment we are crippled. Burgundy stands alone againstall Europe."

  "A vast treasure, my lord, attracts thieves," said Hymbercourt."Burgundy is the richest land on earth."

  "It is, indeed it is," replied the duke, angrily, "and I have no son tokeep it after me. But France shall not have it; that I swear upon myknighthood. Write to France, my Lord Bishop of Cambrai, and tell KingLouis that my daughter shall not marry his son. Waste no words, my LordBishop, in what you call courtesy. We need no double meaning in ourmissives."

  Those who heard the duke's words knew that he was committing a costlyerror, but no one dared to suggest as much. One might, with equalsuccess, have flung soft words at a mad bull. Truly that "t"--but I willspeak of it no more, though I have a thrill of joy and mirth even nowwhen I think of it.

  After many explosions, the duke's pent-up wrath found vent, and began tosubside. Espying Max and me he called us to the throne.

  "Have you concluded to join us in our little holiday excursion againstthese mountain swine?" asked His Grace, addressing us.

  "We have, my lord. We shall be proud to serve under the banner of sobrave a prince," I answered.

  "'We have' would have been sufficient, Sir Karl," answered the duke,still surly from the dregs of his wrath. "We hear so many soft wordsfrom France that we despise them in the mouths of honest men."

  The duke then turned to his seneschal, De Vergy, and spoke in tones thatwere heard all over the room:--

  "My lord, Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg, and Sir Karl de Pitti haveconsented to join our banners. Enroll them in places of honor, my LordSeneschal. See that they are supplied with horses, accoutrements, andtents for themselves and their squires, and direct my Lord Treasurer topay to them upon demand a sum of money of which he shall be dulynotified."

  When the duke stopped speaking, a murmur of approval ran through theaudience--though the Italians had no part in it. The murmur grewclamorous and soon a mighty shout filled the vaulted roof:--

  "Long life to the noble Count of Hapsburg! Burgundy and Styria forever!"

  To me, the words seemed delightfully prophetic. Soon afterward theaudience was dismissed, and Max and I had the great honor of being askedto join the duke's council. A council to the Duke of Burgundy was indeeda veritable fifth wheel. He made his own plans and, right or wrong,clung to them. He would, on rare occasions, listen to Hymbercourt,--aman of few words, who gave advice as if he were lending a crown,--butthe suggestions of others antagonized him.

  The question before the council this morning was: Should the duke's armycarry provisions, or should it take them from the countries throughwhich it was to pass? Charles favored the latter course, and it wasagreed upon. The people of non-belligerent states should be paid for theprovisions that were taken; that is, theoretically they should be paid.The Swiss should furnish provision, gratis, and that doubtless would beterribly practical.

  On each of the three evenings intervening between the day of thiscouncil and the departure of the army, we saw Yolanda at Castleman's.She was always waiting when we arrived. She had changed in manyrespects, but especially in her attitude regarding Max. She was kind andgentle, but shy. Having dropped her familiar manner, she did not go nearhim, but sat at a distance, holding Twonette's hand, and silently butconstantly watching him, as if she were awaiting something. Her eyes, attimes, seemed to be half-indignant interrogation points. At other timesI could see in them doubt, waiting, and hope--hope almost tiredwith yearning.

  It was no small love that she wanted from Max. She had hoped--perhaps Ishould say she had longed with little hope--that he would, for the sakeof the burgher girl, Yolanda, be willing to turn his back on his familyand his land. But now he was leaving, and her dream was about to close,since Max would probably never come back to her.

  Not the least painful of Yolanda's emotions was the knowledge that shecould insure Max's return by telling him that she was the Princess ofBurgundy. But she did not want this man whom she loved so dearly, andwho, she knew, loved her, if she must win him as princess. She wasstrangely impelled to reject a reprieve from a life of wretchedness,unless it came through the high court of love.

  Max, in speaking to me about his return, had wavered many times. One dayhe would return; the next, he would swallow the bitter draught fate hadin store for him. He was a great, honest soul, and to such the call ofduty is compelling.

  On the evening before our departure we went to sup with Castleman. Onour way down to the House under the Wall, Max said:--

  "Karl, my duty is clear. I must not return to Peronne. If I do, I fear Ishall never leave it."

  I did not answer; but I had resolved that he should return, and Iintended that my resolution should become a fact. Yolanda was notpresent at supper, but she appeared soon after we had risen. We satunder the dim light of a lamp in the long room. Yolanda was on thecushioned bench in the shadow of the great chimney, silently claspingTwonette's hand. Twonette, of course, was silent and serene. Castlemanand I talked disjointedly, and Max sat motionless, gazing through thewindow into the night. After greeting us, Yolanda spoke not a word; butever in the deep shadow I could see the glow of her eyes looking towardMax. That his heart was filled with a great struggle, I knew, and Ibelieved that Yolanda also knew.

  We had many preparations to make before our departure next morning atdawn, so after an hour Max and I rose to leave. Twonette, leavingYolanda, came to us, and the Castlemans all gave us a hearty God-speed.Yolanda sat wordless in the shadow. I went to her and gave her my hand.

  "Farewell, Fraeulein," I said.

  Max followed me closely, and I stepped aside to make way for him. Thegirl rose and stood irresolute before him. I went to the Castlemans, whowere standing at a distance.

  "Fraeulein--" said Max. But she interrupted him, extending her hands,which he clasped.

  "Have you no word for me, Sir Max?" she asked pathetically, tearsspringing to her eyes. "Are you coming back to me? Have you the right tocome into my life as you have done, and to leave me? Does God impose butone duty on you--that of your birth?"

  "Ah, Fraeulein," answered Max, huskily, "you know--you know what Isuffer."

  "I surely do know," she responded, "else I would not speak so plainly.But answer me, Sir Max. Answer my question. It is my right to know uponwhat I may depend. Will you come back to me?"

  The imperious will of the princess had come to the rescue of Yolanda,the burgher girl.

  Max paused before speaking, then grasped her hands fiercely andanswered:--

  "Before God, Fraeulein, I will come back to you, if I live."

  Yolanda sank upon the cushioned bench, covered her face with her hands,and the pent-up storm of sobs and tears broke forth as Max and I passedout the door.

  Yolanda had won.