r side, and
after a moment Twonette fell back with me. I overheard all that was said
between Max and Yolanda, and though I do not pretend to quote
accurately, I will give you the substance of their conversation.

"I cannot help laughing," she said, suiting the action to the word,
"over our tragic parting at Metz. We were separated a whole day!"

"But we supposed it was to be for a very long time," said Max. "We--that
is, I--feared I should never see you again. As it was, the day seemed
long to me, Fraeulein."

The girl laughed joyously. She had, you remember, offered Max to the
Virgin at Strasburg. Perhaps part of her joy was because the Queen of
Heaven had returned him to her.

"I should like to try a separation for many days," she said.

"You will soon have the opportunity," returned Max, with wounded vanity.
She paid no heed to his remark, and continued:--

"The second day would not seem so long to you. The third would be still
shorter, and at the end of a fortnight--nay, at the end of a week--you
would wonder how you were ever brought to fix your eyes on a poor
burgher girl, even for a passing moment--you, a great lord. You see, I
have no vast estates to hold you constant, such as those possessed by
the forward lady who sent you the letter and the ring. Do you know, Sir
Max, if I were very fond of you,--if I were your sweetheart,--I should
be jealous of this brazen lady, very jealous."

There was a glint in her eyes that might have caused one to believe the
jealousy already existed.

"Your raillery ill becomes you," said Max, half sullenly. "If I forget
my rank and hold it of small account for your sake, you should not make
a jest of it."

You see, he had not entirely washed out of himself the ceremonious
starch of Hapsburg.

She glanced quickly toward him and answered poutingly:--

"If you don't like my jesting, Sir Max, you may leave me to ride alone."

"You asked me to ride with you," returned Max, "but if you have changed
your mind and insist on being ill-tempered, I will--"

She reached out her hand, and, grasping his bridle-reins, threw them
over the pommel of her saddle.

"Now let me see what you will do, my great Lord Somebody," she cried
defiantly. "You shall not only ride beside me, but you shall also
listen good-humoredly to my jests when I am pleased to make them, and
bear with my ill-humor when I am pleased to be ill-humored."

Max left the bridle-reins in her hand, but did not smile.