“I may not give you the promise you ask, Fraeulein,”
answered Max, desperately. “You must know
how gladly I would remain here forever.”
“I believe truly you want to stay,” she
answered demurely, “else I surely would not
ask this promise of you. Your unspoken words have
been more eloquent than any vows your lips could coin,
and I know what is in your heart, else my boldness
would have been beyond excusing. What I wish
is that your desire should be great enough to keep
you when I ask you to remain.”
“I may not think of myself or my own desires,
Fraeulein,” he answered. “Like the
lady of Burgundy, I was shackled at my birth.”
“The lady of Burgundy is ever in your mind,”
Yolanda retorted sullenly. “You would give
this promise quickly enough were she asking it—she
with her vast estate.”
There was an angry gleam in the girl’s eyes,
and a dark cloud of unmistakable jealousy on her face.
She stepped back from Max and hung her head.
After a moment of silence she said:—
“You may answer me to-morrow night at this bridge,
Sir Max. If you do not see fit to give me the
promise, then I shall weary you no further with importunity,
and you may go your way.”
There was a touch of coldness in her voice as she
turned and walked slowly toward the bridge. Max
called softly:—
“Yolanda!”
She did not answer, but continued with slow steps
and drooping head. As her form was fading into
the black shadow of the castle wall he ran across
the bridge to her, and took her hand:—
“Fraeulein, I will be at the bridge to-morrow
night, and I will try to give the promise you ask
of me.”
THE GREAT RIDDLE
Max was cautious in the matter of making promises,
as every honest man should be, since he had no thought
of breaking them once they were given. Therefore,
he wished to know that he could keep his word before
pledging it. His lifelong habit of asking my advice
may also have influenced him in refusing the promise
that he so much wished to give; or perhaps he may
have wanted time to consider. He did not want
to give the promise on the spur of an impulse.
When he had finished telling me his troubles, I asked:—
“What will you do to-morrow night?”
My riddle was again solved; Yolanda was the princess.
Her words were convincing. All doubt had been
swept from my mind. There would be no more battledore
and shuttlecock with my poor brain on that subject.
So when Max said, “I do not know what I shall
do,” I offered my opinion; “You surprise
me, Max. You lack enterprise; there is no warmth
in your blood. The girl cannot harm you.
Give her the promise. Are your veins filled with
water and caution?”
