o dine with
the duke. Soon after we were seated Twonette left, and within five
minutes Yolanda came suddenly upon us in the long parlor. She ran to
Max, grasping both his hands. For a moment she could only say, "Max,
Max," and he remained silent.

When she recovered control of her voice she said:--

"How proud we are of you, Sir Max! Uncle and aunt have told me how
brave and merciful you were at the combat."

"Your Highness surely knows all that can be told on the subject, since
you were there and took so active a part in the adventure," answered
Max. "It is I who should be grateful, and I am. I owe my life to Your
Highness."

"You honor me too much, Sir Max," said Yolanda, looking up with surprise
and bowing low before him. "Let my elevation be gradual that I may grow
accustomed to my rank. Make of me first a great lady, and then, say, a
countess. Afterward, if I prove worthy, call me princess."

"We will call you a princess now, Your Highness," answered Max, not to
be driven from his position.

"Very well," cried Yolanda, with a laugh and a sweeping courtesy. "If
you will have me a princess, a princess I'll be. But I will not be the
Princess of Burgundy. She saved your life, and I am jealous of her--I
hate her."

She stamped her foot, and the angry gleam in her eyes was genuine. There
could be no doubt that she was jealous of the princess. I could not
account for her unique attitude toward herself save on one hypothesis:
she was, even to herself, two distinct persons. Yolanda was a happy
burgher girl; Mary was a wretched princess. The two widely differing
conditions under which she lived were so distinct, and were separated by
a gulf so broad, that to her the princess and the burgher girl were in
no way related.

With change of condition there was always a change of person. The
unhappy princess would come down the stairway in the wall; God would
kindly touch her, and lo! she was transformed into a happy Yolanda.
Yolanda's light feet would climb the dark stone steps, and God was once
more a frowning father. There must also be added Max's share in her
emotions. Perhaps she feared the princess as she would have dreaded a
rival; since she longed with all her passionate, tender heart to win Max
for herself only. It would have been an easy task, as princess, to win
him or any man; but if she could win him as Yolanda, the burgher girl,
the prize would be the greatest that could fall to a woman.

The true situatio