ken. You do not know me.
I--I am the princess. You do not know me."

Her words were prompted by two motives: she wished to remain unknown to
Max, and she feared lest her father should come to know that a great
part of her life was spent as a burgher girl. Her hands were clasped at
her breast; her face was as pale as a gray dawn; her breath came in
feeble gusts, and her words fell haltingly from her lips. She took two
steps forward, her eyes closed, and she began to fall. Max caught her
and lifted her in his strong arms. On great occasions persons often do
trivial acts. With Yolanda held tightly in the embrace of his left arm,
Max stooped to the ground and picked up his battle-axe with his right
hand. Then he strode to the north end of the lists and placed the girl
in my arms.

"Yolanda," he said, intending to tell me of his fair burden.

"No, Max," I whispered, as he unfastened his helmet. "Not Yolanda, but
the princess. The two resemble each other greatly."

"Yolanda," returned Max, doggedly. "I know her as a mother knows her
first-born."

Not one hundred seconds had elapsed between the report of the arquebuse
and the placing of Yolanda in my arms; but hardly had Max finished
speaking when a dozen ladies crowded about us and took possession of the
unconscious princess.

After the duke had set on foot a search for the man who had fired the
arquebuse, he came down to the false lists and stood with Hymbercourt
and me, discussing the event. Campo-Basso said that his heart was "sore
with grief," and the Italians jabbered like monkeys. One of them wanted
to kiss Max for sparing his kinsman's life, but Max thrust him off with
a fierce oath. The young fellow was in an ugly mood, and if I had been
his enemy, I would sooner have crossed the path of a wounded lion than
his. He was slow to anger, but the treachery he had encountered had
raised all of Satan that was in him. Had he stood before Calli thirty
seconds longer that treacherous heart would have ceased to beat.

While we were standing in the false lists, speaking with the duke, an
Italian approached Max, bowed low, and said:--

"The noble Count Calli approaches to thank you for your mercy and to
extol your bravery."

Max turned his head toward the centre of the course, and saw Calli
surrounded by a crowd of jabbering friends who were leading him toward
us. A black cloud--a very mist from hell--came over Max's face. He
stooped and took his battle-axe from the gro