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Major, Charles, 1856-1913

"Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy"

I have
had more than enough of that."
"Fall to," I said, as we drew the stools to the table. With the first
mouthful of clean, delicious food my appetite returned, and I ate
ravenously. Had the repast been larger I believe we should have killed
ourselves. Fortunately it was consumed before we were exhausted, and we
came off alive and victorious. After supper darkness fell, and Max sat
beside me on the bench. He was very happy, for he felt that our troubles
would end with the night. I put my arm over his neck and begged him to
forgive me for bringing this evil upon him.
"You shall not blame yourself, Karl," he protested. "There is no fault
in you. No one is to blame save myself; I should not have gone to the
bridge. I wonder what poor Yolanda is doing. Perhaps she is suffering in
fear and is ignorant of our misfortune. Perhaps she thinks I have broken
my promise and left Peronne. I can see her stamp her little foot, and I
see her great eyes flashing in anger. Each new humor in her seems more
beautiful than the last, Karl. Knowing her, I seem to have known all
mankind--at least, all womankind. She has wakened me to life. Her touch
has unsealed my eyes, and the pain that I take from my love for her is
like a foretaste of heaven. I believe that a man comes to his full
strength, mental and moral, only through the elixir of pain."
"We surely have had our share of late," I said dolefully.
"All will soon be well with us, Karl; do not fear.


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