The girl's head fell over against his shoulder, and she clasped his free hand between both of hers.
"I will ask my father's consent," said Max. "I will tell him of you and of my great love, which is so great, Fräulein, that all the world is nothing beside it and beside you, and he will grant my request."
"But if he doesn't, Max?" asked the face hidden upon his breast.
"If he does not, Fräulein, I will forego my country and my estates. I will come back to you and will work in the fields, if need be, to make you as happy as you will make me."
"There will be no need for that, Max," she answered, tears of happiness slowly trickling down her cheeks, "for I am rich."
"That I am sorry to hear," he responded.
"Don't you want to know who I am before you wed me?" she asked, after a long pause. She had almost made up her mind to tell him.
"That you may tell me when you are my wife," said Max. "I thought you were the Princess Mary, but I am almost glad that you are not. I soon knew that I was wrong, for I knew that you would not deceive me."
The girl winced and concluded to postpone telling her momentous secret. She was now afraid to do so. As a matter of fact, she had in her heart a healthy little touch of womanly cowardice on small occasions. After a long, delicious pause, Max said:--
"Have I your promise, Fräulein?"