I,
who had passed my quasi-priestly life without once enjoying such a
luxury, touched the velvet cheek with my lips and actually felt a thrill
of delight. Life among the burghers really was delicious. I tell you
this as a marked illustration of the fact that a man never grows too old
to be at times a fool. Twonette slipped from the room, and within
fifteen minutes returned. She went directly to Max and said:--
"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.
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