“That is all he will get from the barren Swiss land, I fear,” remarked Castleman.

“But if he wants it?” answered De Rose, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yes,” returned Castleman, “if the duke wants it, God give it him; but I am sorry to see war with so peaceful a people as the Swiss.”

“There are many persons in Burgundy foolish enough to agree with you,” answered De Rose, laughingly, “but for my part, the will of my master is my will.”

“Amen!” said the cautious burgher.

De Rose smiled, and said:—­

“There is but one will in Burgundy, and that will be done.”

“Where is the duke?” asked Castleman.

“He is at home in Ghent,” answered the herald.

“Is he to remain there?” asked the burgher, displaying a sudden interest.

“I believe he goes soon to Peronne to look after his affairs, on the French border, and to see the duchess and the princess before leaving for Switzerland.  It is also publicly known that the duke, while at Peronne, intends to arrange for the immediate marriage of the princess to the Dauphin.  He wishes to tie the hands of King Louis before making war elsewhere, and he is going to Peronne to cause this marriage to be celebrated before he leaves Burgundy.”

“Sacred God!” exclaimed the usually phlegmatic burgher.  “We must hasten home.  Farewell, Monsieur de Rose.  Your news indeed is bad—­your news of war.”

Castleman urged “Last Week” to an unwonted pace, and drew rein beside Yolanda.  I followed slowly, and unintentionally overhead him say:—­

“Your father will soon be in Peronne.  The duke leaves Ghent within a day or two.”

“Holy Virgin!” cried Yolanda, excitedly.  “We must make all haste, good uncle.  Hereafter we must travel night and day.  We must double our retinue at Strasburg and hasten forward regardless of danger and fatigue.  I wish we were across Lorraine and well out of Metz.  If this war begins, Lorraine will surely turn upon Burgundy.”

“I begged you not to come upon this journey,” said Castleman, complainingly.

“I know you did, uncle,” returned Yolanda, repentantly.

“But you would come,” continued Castleman, determined to give vent to his feelings.  “I could not dissuade you, and now if the duke leaves Ghent—­if your father reaches Peronne—­before we return, God help us all.”

“Yes, dear uncle,” said Yolanda, humbly; “as usual, I was at fault.  I have been a source of trouble and danger to you nearly all my life, and you, of all persons in the world, I would make happy.”

I was riding ten paces behind Castleman, but the wind came toward me, and I was an involuntary listener.  What I had heard was of such tremendous import to Max that I could not bring myself to rein back my horse, though I despised myself for listening.  I believe that moment was, of all my life, the greatest test of my love for Max.  No less a motive could have induced me to become an eavesdropper.  Castleman was silent for a short time, and then I heard him say:—­