Part 5 (1/2)

”You are before it now, my dear boy,” I answered. ”These new friends are giving you only what you give them. With me, you have always been before the gla.s.s.”

”That has been true,” said Max, ”ever since the first day you entered Hapsburg. Do you remember? I climbed on your knee and said, 'You have a big, ugly nose!' Mother admonished me, and I quickly made amends by saying, 'But I like you.'”

”I well remember, Max,” I responded. ”That day was one of mutual conquest. That is the prime condition of friends.h.i.+p: mutual conquest and mutual surrender. But you must have other friends than me. You see I am not jealous. You must have friends of your own age.”

”I now realize why I have hungered all my life,” said Max, ”though I have never before known: I longed for friends. Is it not strange that I should find them among these low-born people? It surely cannot be wrong for me to live as I do, though father and mother would doubtless deem it criminal.”

”These good burgher folk are making you better and broader and stronger,” I answered. ”But there is one thing I want to suggest: you are devoting too much of your time to the brown-eyed little maid. You must seek favor with Twonette. She is harmless, and through her you may, by some freak of fortune, reach the goal of your desires. With the prestige of your family and the riches of Burgundy, you may become the most powerful man in the world, save the Pope.”

”Perhaps Fraulein Yolanda is also acquainted with the Princess Mary,”

responded Max, half reluctantly speaking Mary's name.

”No,” I answered, ”she is not.” I asked her if she were. She laughed at the suggestion, and said: 'Oh, no, no, the princess is a very proud person and very exclusive. She knows but one burgher girl in Peronne, I am told. That one is Twonette, and I believe she treats her most ungraciously at times. I would not endure her snubs and haughty ways as Twonette does. I seek the friends.h.i.+p of no princess. Girls of my own cla.s.s are good enough for me. ”Twonette, fetch me a cup of wine.”

”Twonette, thread my needle.” ”Twonette, you are fat and lazy and sleep too much.” ”Twonette, stand up.” ”Twonette, sit down.” Faugh! I tell you I want none of these princesses, no, not one of them. I hate princesses, and I tell you I doubly hate this--this--' She did not say whom she doubly hated. She is a forward little witch, Max. She laughed merrily at my questions concerning the princess, and asked me if we were going to Burgundy to storm Mary's heart. 'Who is to win her?' she asked. 'You, Sir Karl, or Sir Max? It must be you. Sir Max is too slow and dignified even to think of scaling the walls of a maiden fortress. It must be you, Sir Karl.' The saucy little elf rose from her chair, bowed low before me and said, 'I do liege homage to the future Duke of Burgundy.' Then she danced across the room, laughing at my discomfiture. She is charming, Max, but remember Gertrude the Conqueror! Such trifling affairs are well enough to teach a man the a-b-c of life but one with your destiny ahead of him must not remain too long in his alphabet. Such affairs are for boys, Max, for boys.”

”Do not fear for me, Karl,” answered Max, laughingly. ”We are not apt to take hurt from dangers we see.”

”Do you clearly see the danger?” I suggested.

”I clearly see,” he responded. ”I admire Fraulein Yolanda as I have never admired any other woman. I respect her as if she were a princess; but one of the penalties of my birth is that I may not think of her nor of one of her cla.s.s. She is not for me; she is a burgher maiden--out of my reach. For that reason I feel that I should respect her.”

The att.i.tude of Max toward Yolanda was a real triumph of skill and adroitness over inherited convictions and false education. She had brought him from condescension to deference solely by the magic of her art. Or am I wrong? Was it her artlessness? Perhaps it was her artful artlessness, since every girl-baby is born with a modic.u.m of that dangerous quality.

”Perhaps you are right, Karl,” added Max. ”I may underrate the power of this girl. As you have said, she is a little witch. But beneath her laughter there is a rare show of tenderness and strength, which at times seems pathetic and almost elfin. You are right, Karl. I will devote myself to Twonette hereafter. She is like a feather-bed in that she cannot be injured by a blow, neither can she give one; but Yolanda--ah, Karl, she is like a priceless jewel that may be shattered by a blow and may blind one by its radiance.”

But Max's devotion to Twonette was a failure. She was certainly willing, but Yolanda would have none of it, and with no equivocation gave every one to understand as much. Still, she held Max at a respectful distance.

In fact, this Yolanda handled us all as a juggler tosses his b.a.l.l.s. Max must not be too attentive to her, and he must not be at all attentive to Twonette. In this arrangement Twonette acquiesced. She would not dare to lift her eyes to one upon whom Yolanda was looking!

Here was ill.u.s.trated the complete supremacy of mind over matter.

Castleman, Twonette, Franz and his frau, Max and I, all danced when the tiny white hand of Yolanda pulled the strings. A kiss or a saucy nod for Castleman or Twonette, a smile or a frown for Max and me, were the instruments wherewith she worked. Deftly she turned each situation as she desired. Max made frequent efforts to obtain a private moment with her, that he might ask a few questions concerning her wonderful knowledge of his ring--they had been burning him since the night of her sorcery--but, though she knew quite well his desire to question her, she gave him no opportunity.

During the time that Castleman was buying his silks, the members of our little party grew rapidly in friends.h.i.+p. In culture, education, and refinement, the Castlemans were far above any burghers I had ever known.

Franz and his wife, though good, simple people, were not at all in Castleman's cla.s.s. They felt their inferiority, and did not go abroad with us, though we supped daily with them. Each evening supper was a little fete followed by a romp of amus.e.m.e.nt, songs, and childish games in the frau's great parlor.

The Castlemans, Max, and I made several excursions into the mountains.

Yolanda and Twonette were in ecstasy at the mountain views, which were so vividly in contrast with the lowlands of Burgundy.

”These mountains are beautiful,” said patriotic Yolanda, ”but our lowlands raise bread to feed the hungry.”

On one occasion we rode to the Falls of Schaffhausen, and often we were out upon the river. During these expeditions Yolanda adroitly kept our little party together, and Max could have no private word with her.

I had never been so happy as I was during the fortnight at Basel while Castleman was buying silk. I was almost a child again; my fifty odd years seemed to fall from me as an eagle sheds his plumes in spring. We were all happy and merry as a May-day, and our joyousness was woven from the warp and woof of Yolanda's gentle, laughing nature. Without her, our life would have been comfortable but commonplace.

During all this time Max pondered in vain upon the remarkable manner in which Yolanda had divined the secret of his ring. He longed to question her, but she would not be questioned until she was ready to answer.

On a certain morning near the close of our sojourn in Basel, Max, after many elephantine manoeuvres, obtained Yolanda's promise to walk out with him to a near-by hill in the afternoon. It was a Sabbath day, and every burgher maiden in Basel that boasted a sweetheart would be abroad with him in the suns.h.i.+ne. Max could not help feeling that it was most condescending in him, a prince, to walk out with Yolanda, a burgher maiden. Should any one from Styria meet him, he would certainly sink into the ground, though in a certain way the girl's reluctance seemed to place the condescension with her.