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Major, Charles, 1856-1913

"Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy"

"To men, it is a bitter regret."
To me he had spoken differently of his pain.
"Then be generous, Little Max, and give me the sweet memory," said the
girl, carried away by the swirling impulse of her heart.
"You will not need it," answered Max. "Your lot will be different from
mine."
"Yes, it will be different, Max--it will be worse," she cried
passionately, almost in tears. "I think I shall kill myself when you
leave Burgundy." She paused and turned fiercely upon him, "Give me the
promise I ask. I demand at least that consolation as my right--as a poor
return for what you take from me."
Max gently took her hand, which was at once lost in his great clasp.
"Fraeulein, I will not leave Burgundy within a month, whatever the
consequences may be," he said tenderly.
"Upon your honor?" she asked, joyously clapping her hands.
"Every promise I make, Fraeulein, is on my honor," said Max, seriously.
"So it is, Little Max, so it is," she answered gently. Then they rose
and came to the table where Castleman and I were sitting.
Yolanda had gained her point and was joyful over her victory.
Frau Katherine was asleep in a high-backed chair. Twonette slept in a
corner of the arbor, her flaxen head embowered in a cluster of leaves
and illumined by a stray beam of moonlight that stole between the vines.
"I am going in now. Come, Twonette," said Yolanda, shaking that plump
young lady to arouse her. "Come, Twonette."
Twonette slowly opened her big blue eyes, but she was slower in
awakening.


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