I was so astonished at this tempestuous outburst from an unexpected quarter, and was so surprised at discovering an intimate knowledge of great affairs in a simple burgher maid, that I dropped the piece of meat I held in my fingers and stared in wonder across the table at Yolanda.  I had known from the first hour of meeting her that the girl’s mind was marvellously keen; but that a maid of seventeen or eighteen, in her position, should have so firm a grasp of international affairs and should possess so clear a conception of the troublous situation in western Europe, astounded me.

In eastern Europe, where we were not blinded by neighborly hatred and local jealousies, the truth of Yolanda’s statement had long been apparent.  We carried our prophecy further and predicted that the headlong passions of Charles the Rash would soon result in his death or overthrow.

My point in dragging in this heavy load of political lore is this:  In case of the death of Charles of Burgundy, the future of western Europe would depend on the brains and the bravery of the man who should marry the Princess Mary.  I felt that Max was chosen of God for that destiny.  Should he succeed in defending Burgundy against France, he would become the most powerful man in Europe.  No event save death could keep him from achieving the imperial crown.

If the existing treaty of marriage between Mary and the Dauphin of France were carried out, and if the Dauphin as king should possess one-half the wisdom of his father, Louis, all western Europe would soon be France.  If this treaty were to fail and the Princess Mary espouse a man capable of defending her territory, Burgundy would still remain a wall of protection to the smaller states of the Rhine.

A long silence followed Yolanda’s outburst, but her words had so astonished me that my supper for the evening was finished.  Castleman plied his knife industriously; Yolanda nibbled at a piece of meat between her dainty fingers, and Twonette gazed serenely out of the open window.

Yolanda’s words and Castleman’s constraint filled me with wonder.  There was to me a mystery about this little beauty that had not been touched on by my friend from Peronne.  I hoped to gain information on the point by inducing Yolanda to talk.  She was willing enough.

“Fraeulein,” I said, “I quite agree with you.  It is a matter of surprise to me that these noblemen you mention do not see the truth as you state it.”

“They are fools, Sir Karl, sodden fools,” exclaimed Yolanda.  “You could buy their souls for a sou.  King Louis buys them with an empty promise of one.”

“Why does not Duke Charles buy them?” I asked. “’Tis said he has enormous quantities of ready gold in Luxembourg Castle.”

“Because, Sir Karl,” she responded almost savagely, “bribery is the weapon of a coward.  The Duke of Burgundy uses his money to pay soldiers.”