"There is no company finer than--than--" Max checked his tongue.
"Say it, Max, say it," she whispered coaxingly, leaning toward him.
"Than you, Fräulein." The girl leaned back contentedly against the wall, and Max continued: "Yes, his lordship was kind to me, and most gracious. I cannot believe the stories of cruelty I hear of him. I have been told that on different occasions he has used personal violence on his wife and daughter. If that be true, he must be worse than the brutes of the field, but you may be sure, Yolanda, the stories are false."
"Alas! I fear they are too true," responded the girl, sighing in memory of the afternoon.
"He is a pleasing companion when he wishes to be," said Max, "and I hear his daughter, the princess, is much like him."
"Heavens!" exclaimed Yolanda, "I hope she is like him only when he is pleasing."
"That is probably true," said Max.
"There is where I am really jealous, Max--this princess--" she said, leaning forward and looking up into his face with unmistakable earnestness.
"Why?" asked Max, laughing.
"Because men love wealth and high estate. There are scores of men--at least, so I have been told--eager to marry this princess, who do not even know that she is not hideous to look upon and vixenish in temper. They would take her gladly, with any deformity, physical, mental, or moral, for the sake of possessing Burgundy."