She was not to
be driven from her mood.

"You are such a serious person, Sir Max, that you must, at times, feel
yourself a great weight--almost burdensome--to carry about." She
laughed, though his resentment had piqued her, and there was a dash of
anger in her words. "Ponderous persons are often ridiculous and are apt
to tire themselves with their own weight--no, Sir Max, you can't get
away. I have your reins."

"I can dismount," returned Max, "and leave you my horse to lead."

He turned to leave his saddle, but she caught his arm, rode close to his
side, and, slipping her hand down his sleeve, clasped his hand--if a
hand so small as hers can be said to clasp one so large as his.

A beautiful woman is born with a latent consciousness of her power over
the subjugated sex. Max found in the soft touch of the girl's hand a
wonderful antidote to her sharp words. She continued to hold his hand as
compensation while she said, laughing nervously:--

"Sir Max, you are still young. A friend would advise you: Never lose a
chance to laugh, even though it be at your own expense. There will
always be opportunity to grieve and be gloomy. I tell you frankly, Sir
Max, I almost wept when I bade you good-by at Metz. Now, I am telling
you my state secret and am giving you more than you have asked."

Max joyfully interrupted her:--

"I can forgive you all your raillery, Fraeulein, for that admission."

"Yes, I confess it is a very important admission," she said, in
half-comic seriousness, "but you see, I really did weep when I parted
from my great mastiff, Caesar, at Peronne."

The saucy turn was made so quickly that its humor took Max unawares, and
he laughed.

"There, there! Sir Max, there is hope for you," she cried exultantly.
Then she continued, stealing a side glance at him, "I loved Caesar very,
very much."

There was a satisfying implication in her laughing words, owing to the
fact that she had almost wept at Metz. Max was eager to take advantage
of the opportunity her words gave him, for his caution was rapidly
oozing away; but he had placed a seal on his lips, and they were
shut--at least, for the time. His silence needed no explanation to
Yolanda, and she continued laughingly:--

"Yes, I almost wept. Perhaps I did weep. I will not say truly that I did
not, Sir Max, but within an hour I was laughing at my foolish self and
feared that you, too, would be laughing at me. I wondered if in all the
world there was another