Max, being a man,
struggled against the joy that hurt him and, with a sympathy broad
enough for two, feared the pain he might bring to Yolanda. So this
unresponsiveness in Max made him doubly attractive to the girl, who was
of the sort, whether royal or bourgeois, before whom men usually fall.
"I thought you had left me, Sir Max," she said, drawing him to a seat
beside her in the shade.
"I promised you I would not go," he responded, "and I would not
willingly break my word to any one, certainly not to you, Fraeulein."
"I was angry when I heard you had left the inn," she said, "and I spoke
unkindly of you. There has been an ache in my heart ever since that
nothing but confession and remission will cure."
"I grant the remission gladly," answered Max. "There was flattery in
your anger."
The girl laughed softly and, clasping her hands over her knee, spoke
with a sigh.
"I think women have the harder part of life in everything. I again ask
you to promise me that you will not leave Peronne within a month."
"I cannot promise you that, Fraeulein," answered Max.
"You will some day--soon, perhaps--know my reasons," said Yolanda, "and
if they do not prove good I am willing to forfeit your esteem. That is
the greatest hostage I can give."
"I cannot promise," answered Max, stubbornly.
"I offer you another inducement, one that will overmatch the small
weight of my poor wishes. I promise to bring you to meet this Mary of
Burgundy whom you came to woo.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211