Of all these painful conditions young Max was a suffering victim. Did
he sally forth to stick a wild boar or to kill a bear, the Master of the
Hunt rode beside him in a gaudy, faded uniform. Fore-riders preceded
him, and after-riders followed. He was almost compelled to hunt by
proxy, and he considered himself lucky to be in at the death. The bear,
of course, was officially killed by Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg, no
matter what hand dealt the blow. Maximilian, being the heir of Hapsburg,
must always move with a slow dignity becoming his exalted station. He
must, if possible, always act through an officer; I verily believe that
Duke Frederick, his father, regretted the humiliating necessity of
eating his own dinner.
Poor Max did not really live; he was an automaton.
Once every year Duke Frederick gave a tournament, the cost of which, in
entertainments and prizes, consumed fully two-thirds of his annual
income. On these occasions punctilious ceremony took the place of rich
wine, and a stiff, kindly welcome did service as a feast. These
tournaments were rare events for Max; they gave him a day of partial
rest from his strait-jacket life at the little court among the crags.
I shall give you here ten lines concerning myself. I am Italian by
birth--a younger son of the noble House of Pitti. I left home when but
little more than a boy. Journeying to the East, I became Sir Karl de
Pitti, Knight of the Holy Order of St. John, and in consequence I am
half priest, half soldier.
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