the suggestions of others antagonized him.

The question before the council this morning was: Should the duke's army
carry provisions, or should it take them from the countries through
which it was to pass? Charles favored the latter course, and it was
agreed upon. The people of non-belligerent states should be paid for the
provisions that were taken; that is, theoretically they should be paid.
The Swiss should furnish provision, gratis, and that doubtless would be
terribly practical.

On each of the three evenings intervening between the day of this
council and the departure of the army, we saw Yolanda at Castleman's.
She was always waiting when we arrived. She had changed in many
respects, but especially in her attitude regarding Max. She was kind and
gentle, but shy. Having dropped her familiar manner, she did not go near
him, but sat at a distance, holding Twonette's hand, and silently but
constantly watching him, as if she were awaiting something. Her eyes, at
times, seemed to be half-indignant interrogation points. At other times
I could see in them doubt, waiting, and hope--hope almost tired
with yearning.

It was no small love that she wanted from Max. She had hoped--perhaps I
should say she had longed with little hope--that he would, for the sake
of the burgher girl, Yolanda, be willing to turn his back on his family
and his land. But now he was leaving, and her dream was about to close,
since Max would probably never come back to her.

Not the least painful of Yolanda's emotions was the knowledge that she
could insure Max's return by telling him that she was the Princess of
Burgundy. But she did not want this man whom she loved so dearly, and