“It is this, Fraeulein.  I am going back to Styria, and I want to carry with me your promise to be my wife,” said Max, softly.

The girl’s head fell over against his shoulder, and she clasped his free hand between both of hers.

“I will ask my father’s consent,” said Max.  “I will tell him of you and of my great love, which is so great, Fraeulein, that all the world is nothing beside it and beside you, and he will grant my request.”

“But if he doesn’t, Max?” asked the face hidden upon his breast.

“If he does not, Fraeulein, I will forego my country and my estates.  I will come back to you and will work in the fields, if need be, to make you as happy as you will make me.”

“There will be no need for that, Max,” she answered, tears of happiness slowly trickling down her cheeks, “for I am rich.”

“That I am sorry to hear,” he responded.

“Don’t you want to know who I am before you wed me?” she asked, after a long pause.  She had almost made up her mind to tell him.

“That you may tell me when you are my wife,” said Max.  “I thought you were the Princess Mary, but I am almost glad that you are not.  I soon knew that I was wrong, for I knew that you would not deceive me.”

The girl winced and concluded to postpone telling her momentous secret.  She was now afraid to do so.  As a matter of fact, she had in her heart a healthy little touch of womanly cowardice on small occasions.  After a long, delicious pause, Max said:—­

“Have I your promise, Fraeulein?”

“Y-e-s,” she answered hesitatingly, “I will be your wife if—­if I can, and if you will take me when you learn who I am.  There is no taint of disgrace about me, Max,” she added quickly, in response to the look of surprise on his face.  “But I am not worthy of you, and I fear that if your father but knew my unworthiness, he would refuse his consent to our marriage.  You must not tell him of my boldness.  I will tell you all about myself before you leave for Styria, and then, if you do not want me, you may leave me to—­to die.”

“I shall want you, Yolanda.  I shall want you.  Have no doubt of that,” he answered.

“With the assurance that there is no stain or taint upon me or my family, do you give me your word, Max, that you will want me and will take me, whoever I am, and will not by word or gesture show me that you are angry or that you regret your promise?”

“I gladly give you that promise,” answered Max.

“Did you ever tell a lie, Little Max?” she asked banteringly, “or did you ever deliberately break a promise?”

“Did I ever steal or commit wilful murder?” asked Max, withdrawing his arm.

“No, Max; now put it back again,” she said.

After a long pause she continued:—­

“I have lied.”

Max laughed and drew her to him.

“Your lies will harm no one,” he said joyously.