broken your wrist."

Max had gone out that evening without arms or armor. He had not even a
dagger.

When Calli had passed out of sight, Yolanda stooped, picked up his
dagger, and offered it to Max, saying:--

"He will gather his friends at once. Take this dagger and hasten back to
the inn, or you will never reach it alive. No, come with me to Uncle
Castleman's house. There you may lie concealed."

"I may not go to your uncle's house, Fraeulein," answered Max. "I can go
safely to the inn. Do not fear for me."

Yolanda protested frantically, but Max refused.

"Go quickly, then," she said, "and be on your guard at all times. This
man who came upon us is Count Calli, the greatest villain in Burgundy.
He is a friend of Campo-Basso. Now hasten to the inn, if you will not
come with me to uncle's house, and beware, for this man and his friends
will seek vengeance; of that you must never allow yourself to doubt.
Adieu, till uncle comes."

Max reached the inn unmolested. We donned our mail shirts, expecting
trouble, and took turn and turn watching and sleeping. Next day we hired
two stalwart Irish squires and armed them cap-a-pie. We meant to give
our Italian friends a hot welcome if they attacked us, though we had, in
truth, little fear of an open assault. We dreaded more a dagger thrust
in the back, or trouble from court through the machinations of
Campo-Basso.

The next morning Max sent one of our Irishmen to Castleman's house with
a verbal message to Fraeulein Castleman. When the messenger returned, he
replied to my question:--

"I was shown into a little room where three ladies sat. 'What have you
to say?' asked the little black-haired one in the corner--she with the
great eyes and the face pale as a chalk-cliff. I said, 'I am instructed,
mesdames, to deliver this simple message: Sir Max is quite well.' 'That
will do. Thank you.' said the big eyes and the pale face. Then she gave
me two gold florins. The money almost took my breath, and when I looked
up to thank her, blest if the white face wasn't rosy as a June dawn.
When I left, she was dancing about the room singing and laughing, and
kissing everybody but me--worse luck! By Saint Patrick, I never saw so
simple a message create so great a commotion. 'Sir Max is quite well.'
I'm blest if he doesn't look it. Was he ever ill?"

After five or six days we allowed ourselves to fall into a state of
unwatchfulness. One warm evening we dismissed our squires for an hour