"I did not come to woo her," answered Max, "though she may have been a part of my reason for coming. I knew that she was affianced to the Dauphin of France. Her beauty and goodness were known to me through letters of my Lord d'Hymbercourt, written to my dear old friend Karl. Because of certain transactions, of which you do not know and of which I may not speak, I esteemed her for a time above all women, though I had never seen her. I still esteem her, but--but the other is all past now, Fräulein, and I do not wish to meet the princess, though the honor would be far beyond my deserts."
"Why do you not wish to meet her?" asked Yolanda, with an air of pleasure. Max hesitated, then answered bluntly:--
"Because I have met you, Fräulein. You should not lead me to speak such words."
Yolanda touched Max's arm and said frankly:--
"There can be no harm, Max. If you knew all,--if I could tell you all,--you would understand. The words can harm neither of us." She hesitated and, with drooping head, continued: "And they are to me as the sun and the south wind to the flowers and the corn. You already know all that is in my heart, or I would not speak so plainly. In all my life I have known little of the sweet touch of human sympathy and love, and, Max, my poor heart yearns for them until at times I feel like the flowers without the sun and the corn without the rain,--as if I will die for lack of them. I am almost tempted to tell you all."
"Tell me all, Yolanda," entreated Max, "for I, too, have suffered from the same want, though my misfortune comes from being born to a high estate. If you but knew the lonely, corroding misery of those born to a station above the reach of real human sympathy, you would not envy, you would pity them. You would be charitable to their sins, and would thank God for your lowly lot in life. I will tell you my secret. I am Maximilian of Hapsburg."
"I have known it since the first day I saw you at Basel," answered Yolanda.
"I have felt sure at times that you did," responded Max, "though I cannot think how you learned it. Will you tell me of yourself?"
The girl hung her head and hesitated. Once she lifted her face to speak, but changed her mind.
"Please don't ask me now. I will tell you soon, but not now, not now. Be patient with me. I do pity you. I do, I do. If we could help each other--but we cannot, and there is no use longing for it. I sometimes fear that your attitude is the right one, and that it is best that we should part and meet no more."