One day while Yolanda and I were sitting in the oak
room,—the room from which the panel opened
into the stairway in the wall,—I said to
her:—
“If your letter ‘t’ causes a break
with France, perhaps Max’s opportunity may come.”
“I do not know—I cannot hope,”
she responded dolefully. “You see, when
father made this treaty with France, he was halting
between two men in the choice of a husband for me.
One was the Dauphin, son to King Louis, whom father
hates with every breath he draws. The other was
the Duke of Gelders, whom father really likes.
Gelders is a brute, Sir Karl. He kept his father
in prison four years, and usurped his domain.
He is a drunkard, a murderer, and a profligate.
For reasons of state father chose the Dauphin, but
if the treaty with France is broken, I suppose it
will be Gelders again. If it comes to that, Sir
Karl—but I’ll not say what I’ll
do. My head is full of schemes from morning till
night, and when I sleep my poor brain is a whirl of
visions. Self-destruction, elopement, and I know
not what else appeal to me. How far is it to
Styria, Sir Karl?” she asked abruptly.
“Two or three hundred leagues, perhaps—it
may be more,” I answered. “I do not
know how far it is, Yolanda, but it is not far enough
for your purposes. Even could you reach there,
Styria could not protect you.”
“I was not thinking of—of what you
suppose, Sir Karl,” she said plaintively.
“What were you thinking of, Yolanda?”
I asked.
“Of nothing—of—of—a
wild dream of hiding away from the world in some unknown
corner, at times comes to me in my sleep—only
in my sleep, Sir Karl—for in my waking
hours I know it to be impossible. The only pleasant
part of being a princess is that the world envies you;
but what a poor bauble it is to buy at the frightful
price I pay!”
“I have been on mountain tops,” I answered
philosophically, “and I find that breathing
grows difficult as one ascends.”
“Ah, Sir Karl,” she answered tearfully,
“I believe I’ll go upstairs and weep.”
I led her to the moving panel and opened it for her.
Without turning her face she held back her hand for
me to kiss. Then she started up the dark stone
steps, and I knew that she was weeping. I closed
the panel and sat on the cushioned bench. To
say that I would have given my old life to win happiness
for her but poorly measures my devotion. A man’s
happiness depends entirely on the number and quality
of those to whom his love goes out. Before meeting
Yolanda I drew all my happiness from loving one person—Max.
Now my source was doubled, and I wished for the first
time that I might live my life again, to lay it at
this girl’s feet.
TRIAL BY COMBAT
Max had waited until Calli’s arm was mended
to bring up the subject of the trial by combat; but
when he would have taken it before the duke, I dissuaded
him by many pretexts, and for a few days it was dropped.
But soon it was brought forward in a most unpleasant
way. Max and I were in the streets of Peronne
one afternoon, and as we approached a group of ragged
boys, one of them cried out:—
