“Now you will give me the bird—­I know you will,” exclaimed Yolanda.

A remnant of the pout still hovered about her lips, doing battle with the dimples of a smile.

“I have already given him to the duke,” answered Max.

“Tell the duke the bird escaped, or died suddenly of an apoplexy.  Tell him anything you like, but give me the hawk,” said Yolanda.

“Would you have me lie, Fraeulein?” asked Max, amused at her persistency.  “I cannot do that, even for you.  If you insist upon having the bird, I may go to the duke and withdraw my gift.”

“Would you do that for me, Sir Max?” she asked, eagerly.

“Ay, and a great deal more, Fraeulein.  I tremble at the thought of what you could make me do,” he answered.

“In the fiend’s name, let the duke have the bird,” cried Yolanda.  “He will pout more than I if you don’t.  He is of a sullen nature.”

“Do you know the duke?” asked Max, suspecting for the first time that Yolanda might be more intimate about the court than he had supposed.

“I have heard much of him from those who know him,” answered Yolanda.

So the duke got Caesar.

The next morning Hymbercourt came to the inn to accompany us to the castle.  While we were sipping a mug of wine at a garden table, he said:—­

“I do not want to be officious in your affairs, but I am convinced that it will be well for you to tell the duke who you are.  If you do not see fit to do so, it were wise in you to leave Burgundy at your earliest convenience.”

“I cannot leave within a month,” said Max.  I knew the cause of his detention, and, ignoring his remark, turned to Hymbercourt:—­

“Do you want to give the reasons for your advice?”

“Yes, I am quite willing,” he answered, “but I would not have my words repeated.”

“Of that you may rest assured,” I answered.

“If you do not tell the duke who you are,” said Hymbercourt, “he will soon learn it from our Italian friends, who have the fiend’s own energy in the pursuit of vengeance.  They will discover who you are, and you will lose the advantage of a frank avowal.  Duke Charles admires Sir Max, but our liege lord is capricious and can easily fancy that others are plotting to injure him.  I am sure that he will now receive the Count of Hapsburg graciously if you tell him that Sir Max is that person.  What he would do were he to learn the fact highly colored by his Italians, I cannot say.  These mercenaries have a strange influence over His Grace, and there is not a nobleman in Burgundy who does not fear them.”

“How will the duke feel concerning the old proposition of marriage?” I asked.