burgher maiden so great a fool as to lift her
eyes to a mighty lord, or to think that he could lower his eyes to her
with true intent."

At that point in the conversation I felt that the seal upon Max's lips
would not stand another attack. It was sure to melt; so I rode to
Yolanda's side and interrupted the interesting colloquy.

Max supposed the girl to be of the burgher class, and if by any chance
she were Mary of Burgundy, he might ruin his future, should he become
too insistent upon his rank in explaining the reasons why he could not
follow the path of his inclinations. He might make himself ridiculous;
and that mistake will ruin a man with any woman, especially if she be
young and much inclined to laugh.

During the foregoing conversation we had been travelling at a six-mile
canter. The day was warm, and I suggested breathing the horses in the
shade of the forest.

"I believe we are approaching the river," I said, "and we should rest
the horses before taking a dash over the open road."

Yolanda assented--in a manner she seemed to have taken command of the
party--and we halted under the trees. Max rode forward to a point from
which he could view the other road, and waved his hand to let us know
that the duke was not in sight. We immediately put spurs to our horses
and covered the stretch of open road by the river in a short, brisk
gallop. On leaving the road again we saw no indication of the duke's
cavalcade. Evidently the race was ours by an easy canter. From that
point to within two miles of Peronne, Yolanda's song was as joyous as
that of a wooing bird. The sun beat down upon us, and blinding clouds of
dust rose from every plunge of our horses' hoofs; but Yolanda's song
transformed our hot, wearisome journey into a triumphant march.
Happiness seemed to radiate from her and to furnish joy for all.

For a stretch of two miles up river from Peronne the roads approached
each other, but, owing to an intervening marsh, they were fully half a
mile apart. We, or at least Yolanda, had apparently forgotten the duke
when, near the hour of eight in the morning, we approached the marsh;
but when we entered the open country we saw, to our consternation, the
duke's cavalcade within one mile of Peronne. Where they had passed us we
did not know, nor did we stop to consider. They were five minutes ahead,
and if we could not enter Peronne in advance of them, it were no worse
had they been a day before us.

Yolanda cast one