“No, no,” she cried desperately, grasping my hand.  “Do not let him fight.  Ah, Sir Karl, if you bear me any love, if my grief and unhappy lot have touched your heart, even on the smallest spot, I pray you, do this thing for me.  Do not let Max fight with this Count Calli.  If Max falls—­”

“But Max will not fall,” I answered boldly.  “He has overthrown better men than Calli.”

“Has he?  Ah, tell me, has he?  He is little more than a boy.  I seem older than he at times, and it is hard to believe what you say, though I know he is strong, and that fear has no place in his heart.  Tell me, whom has he overthrown?”

“Another time, Yolanda,” I responded soothingly, “but this I say now to comfort you.  Calli is no match for our Max.  In the combat that is to come, Max can kill him if he chooses, barring accidents and treachery.  Over and above his prowess, his cause, you know, is just, and for that reason God will be with him.”

“Yes, yes,” sobbed Yolanda, “and the Virgin, too.”

The Virgin was a woman in whom she could find a woman’s sympathy.  She trusted God and stood in reverent awe of Him; but one could easily see that the Virgin held her heart and was her refuge in time of trouble.  When I turned to leave she called me back, saying:—­

“I have a mind to tell Max the truth—­to tell him who I am.”

“I would not do so now,” I answered, fearing, perhaps with good reason, the effect of the disclosure on Max.  “After the combat, if you wish to tell him—­”

“But if he should fall?” said the girl, beginning to weep again and clinging desperately to my arm.  “If he should fall, not knowing who I am?”

“Max will not fall, Yolanda.  Dismiss that fear from your heart.”

My bold words served a double purpose.  They at least partially satisfied Yolanda, and they strengthened me.

Of course Max and I at once began to prepare for the combat.  The charger we had captured from the robbers on the Rhine now came to our hand as if sent by Providence.  He was a large, active horse, with limbs like steel.  He was an intelligent animal, too, and a good brain is almost as valuable in a horse as in a man.  He had evidently borne arms all his life, for when we tried him in the tilt-yard we found him trained at every point.

There was no heavy plate at the Peronne armorer’s large enough for Max, so Hymbercourt dropped a hint to Duke Charles, and His Grace sent two beautiful suits to our inn.  One was of Barcelona make, the other an old suit which we judged had come from Damascus.  I tried the latter with my sword, and spoiled a good blade.  Although the Damascus armor was too heavy by a stone, we chose it, and employed an armorer to tighten a few nuts, and to adjust new straps to the shoulder plates and arm pieces.

We caused lists to be built outside the walls, and Max worked eight hours a day to harden himself.  He ran against me, against our squires, who were lusty big fellows, and now and then against Hymbercourt, who was a most accomplished knight.