“Some one is waiting for you in the oak room above.”

She pointed the way, and Max climbed the stairs two steps at a time.  I thought from his eagerness he would clear the entire flight at one bound.  To his knock a soft voice bade him enter.  The owner of the voice was sitting demurely at the farthest end of the room on a cushioned bench.  Her back rested against the moving panel that led to the stairway in the wall.  She did not move when Max entered.  She had done all the moving she intended to do, and Max must now act for himself.  He did.  He ran down the long room to her, crying:—­

“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, Fraeulein,” 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, Fraeulein, 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.