If I
had I should have entered the house."

"Why, then, did you go to the bridge?" I queried.

"I cannot answer that question even to myself," he replied. "I--I--there
is a constant hungering for her, Karl, that I cannot overcome; it seems
as if I am compelled to go to the bridge, though I know I should not. It
is very foolish in me, I am sure, but--"

"I heartily agree with you," I answered. "It is not only foolish, it is
rash; and it may bring you great trouble."

I did not deem it necessary to tell him that he was following in the
footsteps of his race. I left him to suppose that he was the only fool
of the sort that had ever lived. The thought would abate his vanity.

"But I _must_ go to the bridge," he continued, finishing the sentence I
had interrupted, "and I do not see how there can be evil in it."

"No, Max, it Is not wrong in itself," I said reprovingly; "but
Castleman, evidently for good reasons, asked you to stay away from his
house, and counselled us to remain close at the inn. It has also this
evil in it for you, aside from the danger: it will make your duty harder
to perform. When a man longs for what he may not have, he should not
think upon it, much less act on it. Our desires, like covetousness and
jealousy, feed upon themselves. We may, if we but knew it, augment or
abate them at will."

"I shall always think on--on my love for Yolanda," he replied. "I would
not abate it one jot; I would augment it in my heart. But, Karl--you
see, Karl, it is not a question of my own strength to resist. I need no
strength. There is no more reason for you to warn me against this danger
than to admonish a child not to long for a star, fearing he might get
it. The longing may be indulged with impunity; the star and the danger
are out of reach."

I had nothing to say; Max was stronger and nobler than ever I had
believed.

Max continued to go to the bridge, and I made no effort to prevent him.
Meddling mars more frequently than it mends, and when the Fates are
leading, a man is a fool to try to direct their course. Whatever was to
be would be. Fate held Max by the hand and was leading him. I almost
feared to move or to speak in his affairs, lest I should make a mistake
and offend these capricious Fates. The right or the wrong of his visits
to the moat depended entirely upon the answer to my riddle, "Who is
Yolanda?" and I dared not put it to the touch.

On one occasion he returned from the bridge, and without