“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 coming to his eyes.

“I do not know, Max,” I responded.  “A rare thing has happened to you.  You have won a marvellous love from a marvellous woman.  She takes no pains to conceal it.  She could not hide it if she would.  What you feel, only you and God know.”

“Only God,” cried Max, huskily.  “Only God.  I cannot measure it.”

“My dear boy,” said I, taking his arm, “you are at a point where you must decide for yourself.”

“I have decided,” returned Max.  “If my father and mother were not living, I might—­I might—­bah! there is but one life for me.  I am doomed.  I make myself wretched by resistance.”

“When we return to Peronne, you will know your mind,” I answered soothingly.

“I know my mind now,” he answered.  “I know that I would give half the years of my life to possess Yolanda; but I also know the fate that God has marked out for me.”

“Then you know more than many a wise man thrice your age can boast,” said I.

* * * * *

The duke’s armies had been gathering throughout Burgundy.  Men had come in great numbers to camp near Peronne, and the town was noisy with martial preparations.  Contrary to Hymbercourt’s advice, the duke was leaving Peronne Castle guarded by only a small garrison.  Charles had great faith in the strength of Peronne the Impregnable, and, although it was near the French border, he trusted in its strength and in his treaty with King Louis.  He knew from experience that a treaty with Louis would bind that crafty monarch only so long as it was to his interest to remain bound; but Louis’ interest in maintaining the treaty seemed greater than Burgundy’s, and Charles rested on that fact.  Peronne was to be left captained by the duchess and Mary, and garrisoned by five score men-at-arms, who were either too old or too young to go to war.

Without discussing the duke’s offer, Max and I decided to accept it, though for different reasons.  Max needed the gold; he also sniffed battle, and wanted the excitement and the enterprise of war.  I had all his reasons, and still another; I wanted to give Yolanda time to execute her plans.