compass, and Yolanda, in that respect, was the flower of her sex. That
she had been able to maintain her humble personality with Max, despite
the fact that she had been compelled to meet him twice as princess,
proved her ability. Of course, she had the help of good old Castleman
and his sweet Frau Kate, serene Twonette, and myself; but with all this
help she probably would have failed without the stairway in the wall.

When we left Castleman's, I did not bring up the subject of Mary and
Yolanda. Max walked silently beside me until we had nearly reached the
inn, when he said:--

"I am almost glad I was wrong, Karl. I would not have Yolanda other
than she is. At times, wild thoughts suggest themselves to me; but I am
not so weak as to give way to them. I drive them off and clench my
teeth, determined to take the misery God doles out to me. I am glad we
are soon to leave Burgundy. The duke marches in three days, and it is
none too soon for me."

"Shall not we return to Burgundy?" I asked. "I want you to see Paris and
Brussels, and, if possible, London before we return to Styria. Don't you
think it best that we come back to Peronne after this war?"

"You are right, Karl; we must come back," he answered. "I do not fear
Yolanda. I am not weak."

"I sometimes wonder if we know our strength from our weakness," I
suggested. "There is doubtless much energy wasted by conscientious men
striving in the wrong direction, who fancy they are doing their duty."

"You would not have me marry Yolanda?" asked Max, a gleam of light