“I jealous?” she responded, with lifted eyebrows.  “You are a vain man, Sir Max.  I was not jealous—­only—­only a tiny bit—­so much—­” and she measured the extent of her jealousy on the pink tip of her little finger.  “I am told you were falconing with the Duke of Burgundy to-day.  If you go in such fine company, I fear we shall see little of you.”

“There is no company finer than—­than—­” Max checked his tongue.

“Say it, Max, say it,” she whispered coaxingly, leaning toward him.

“Than you, Fraeulein.”  The girl leaned back contentedly against the wall, and Max continued:  “Yes, his lordship was kind to me, and most gracious.  I cannot believe the stories of cruelty I hear of him.  I have been told that on different occasions he has used personal violence on his wife and daughter.  If that be true, he must be worse than the brutes of the field, but you may be sure, Yolanda, the stories are false.”

“Alas!  I fear they are too true,” responded the girl, sighing in memory of the afternoon.

“He is a pleasing companion when he wishes to be,” said Max, “and I hear his daughter, the princess, is much like him.”

“Heavens!” exclaimed Yolanda, “I hope she is like him only when he is pleasing.”

“That is probably true,” said Max.

“There is where I am really jealous, Max—­this princess—­” she said, leaning forward and looking up into his face with unmistakable earnestness.

“Why?” asked Max, laughing.

“Because men love wealth and high estate.  There are scores of men—­at least, so I have been told—­eager to marry this princess, who do not even know that she is not hideous to look upon and vixenish in temper.  They would take her gladly, with any deformity, physical, mental, or moral, for the sake of possessing Burgundy.”

“But I am told she is fair and beautiful,” said Max.

“Believe it not,” said Yolanda, sullenly.  “Whoever heard of a rich princess who was not beautiful?  Anne and Joan, daughters of King Louis, are always spoken of as paragons of beauty; yet those who know tell me these royal ladies are hideous.  King Louis has nicknamed Joan ’The Owlet’ because she is little, ill-shapen, and black.  Anne is tall, large of bone, fat, and sallow.  He should name her ‘The Giantess of Beaujeu’; and the little half-witted Dauphin he should dub ’Knight of the Princely Order of House Rats.’”

That she was deeply in earnest there could be no doubt.

“I hope you do not speak so freely to others,” said Max.  “If His Grace of Burgundy should hear of your words he might—­”

“I hope you will not tell him,” said Yolanda, laughing.  “But this Mary!” she continued, clinging stubbornly to the dangerous topic.  “You came to woo her estates, and in the end you will do so.”

I am convinced that the girl was intensely jealous of herself.  When she feared that Max might seek the Princess Mary, her heart brooded over the thought that he would do so for the sake of her wealth and her domains.