"No, he lives at Ghent," he answered; "but on rare occasions he visits Peronne, which is on the French border. Duke Philip once lived there, but Charles keeps Peronne only as his watch-tower to overlook his old enemy, France. The enmity, I hope, will cease, now that the Princess Mary is to marry the Dauphin."
This confirmation of a rumor which I had already heard was anything but welcome. However, it sensitized the feeling Max entertained for his unknown lady-love, and strengthened his resolution to pursue his journey to Burgundy at whatever cost.
I led Franz to speak of Burgundian affairs and he continued:--
"The princess and her stepmother, the Duchess Margaret, live at Peronne. They doubtless found life at Ghent with the duke too violent. It is said that the duchess is unhappily wedded to the fierce duke, and that the unfortunate princess finds little favor in her father's eyes because he cannot forgive her the grievous fault of being a girl."
While Franz was talking I was dreaming. A kind providence had led us a half-hundred leagues out of our road, through wounds and hardships, to Basel; but that quiet city might after all prove to be the open doorway to Max's fortune. My air-castle was of this architecture: Max would win old Castleman's favor--an easy task. We would journey to Peronne, seek Castleman's house, pay court to Antoinette--I prayed she might not be too pretty--and--you can easily find your way over the rest of my castle.
Within a fortnight Max and I had recovered entirely from our wounds, and were abroad each day in the growing warmth of the sunshine. We did not often speak of Castleman, but we waited, each day wishing for his speedy advent.
At last, one beautiful evening early in May, he arrived. Max and I were sitting at our window watching the river, when the little company rode up to the door of the merchant's shop. With Castleman were two young women hardly more than girls. One of them was a pink and white young beauty, rather tall and somewhat stout. Her face, complexion, and hair were exquisite, but there was little animation in her expression. The other girl had features less regular, perhaps, but she was infinitely more attractive. She was small, but beautiful in form; and she sprang from her horse with the grace of a kitten. Her face was not so white as her companion's, but its color was entrancing. Her expression was animated, and her great brown eyes danced like twinkling stars on a clear, moonless night.
The young women entered the house, and we saw nothing more of them for several days.
When we met Castleman, he gladly engaged our services to Peronne, having heard from Franz of our adventures in the Black Forest. We left the terms to him, and he suggested a compensation far greater than we should have asked. The sum we received from Franz, together with that which we should get from Castleman, would place us beyond want for a year to come. Surely luck was with us.
After Castleman's arrival our meals were served in our room, and we saw little of him or of Franz for a week or more. Twice I saw Castleman ride out with the young women, and after that I haunted the front door of the house. One bright afternoon I met them as they were about to dismount. Castleman was an old man and quite stout, so I helped him from his horse. He then turned to the fair girl of pink and white, saying:--