"I may not give you the promise you ask, Fräulein," answered Max, desperately. "You must know how gladly I would remain here forever."
"I believe truly you want to stay," she answered demurely, "else I surely would not ask this promise of you. Your unspoken words have been more eloquent than any vows your lips could coin, and I know what is in your heart, else my boldness would have been beyond excusing. What I wish is that your desire should be great enough to keep you when I ask you to remain."
"I may not think of myself or my own desires, Fräulein," he answered. "Like the lady of Burgundy, I was shackled at my birth."
"The lady of Burgundy is ever in your mind," Yolanda retorted sullenly. "You would give this promise quickly enough were she asking it--she with her vast estate."
There was an angry gleam in the girl's eyes, and a dark cloud of unmistakable jealousy on her face. She stepped back from Max and hung her head. After a moment of silence she said:--
"You may answer me to-morrow night at this bridge, Sir Max. If you do not see fit to give me the promise, then I shall weary you no further with importunity, and you may go your way."
There was a touch of coldness in her voice as she turned and walked slowly toward the bridge. Max called softly:--
"Yolanda!"
She did not answer, but continued with slow steps and drooping head. As her form was fading into the black shadow of the castle wall he ran across the bridge to her, and took her hand:--
"Fräulein, I will be at the bridge to-morrow night, and I will try to give the promise you ask of me."