savagely, "bribery is the
weapon of a coward. The Duke of Burgundy uses his money to pay
soldiers."

"But, Fraeulein," I answered, "the duke has for years--ever since before
his father's death--been wasting his money, sacrificing his soldiers,
and despoiling his land by wars, prosecuted to no good end. He has
conquered large territory, but he has paid for it with the blood of his
people. Neither they nor he are the better because of those accessions,
and the duke has made enemies who will one day surely wrest them from
him. A brave prince should not fear to be called a coward because of an
act that will bring peace and happiness to his subjects and save their
lives, their liberties, and their estates. That great end will ennoble
any means. The subjects of Burgundy are frugal and peace-loving. They
should be protected from the cruel cost of useless war. I would not
criticise Duke Charles, whose bravery is beyond compare, but for the
sake of his people I could wish that his boldness were tempered with
caution. Policy, not blows, appears to me the only way out of his
present and imminent danger."

"Perhaps you are right, Sir Karl," answered Yolanda, "but I advise you
to keep your views to yourself when you reach Burgundy. Should they come
to the duke's ears, you might lose yours."

"Indeed, Fraeulein, your warning is unnecessary," I responded laughingly.
"I already know the disposition of the duke toward those who disagree
with him. His ungovernable passions will surely lead him to a terrible
end. Bravery, if wise, is one of the noblest attributes of men. The
lack of wisdom makes it the most dangerous. Duke Charles ought to temper
his courage with love for his people. He should fight, when he must,
with wise bravery. If he should die, God pity the poor people of
Burgundy unless their princess choose a husband both wise and brave."

"But she will not be allowed to choose," cried Yolanda, passionately.
"Her freedom is less than that of any serf. She is bound hand and foot
by the chains of her birth. She is more to be pitied than the poorest
maiden in Burgundy. The saddest of all captives is she who is chained to
a throne."

"That surely is the bitterest draught fate offers to mortal man," sighed
Max.

"Yes," whispered Yolanda, huskily. "One cannot rebel; one may not even
kill one's self when one is condemned to live. One can do nothing but
endure and wait in haunting fear and, in rare moments, hope against a
million