She is charming,
Max, but remember Gertrude the Conqueror! Such trifling affairs are well
enough to teach a man the a-b-c of life but one with your destiny ahead
of him must not remain too long in his alphabet. Such affairs are for
boys, Max, for boys."

"Do not fear for me, Karl," answered Max, laughingly. "We are not apt to
take hurt from dangers we see."

"Do you clearly see the danger?" I suggested.

"I clearly see," he responded. "I admire Fraeulein Yolanda as I have
never admired any other woman. I respect her as if she were a princess;
but one of the penalties of my birth is that I may not think of her nor
of one of her class. She is not for me; she is a burgher maiden--out of
my reach. For that reason I feel that I should respect her."

The attitude of Max toward Yolanda was a real triumph of skill and
adroitness over inherited convictions and false education. She had
brought him from condescension to deference solely by the magic of her
art. Or am I wrong? Was it her artlessness? Perhaps it was her artful
artlessness, since every girl-baby is born with a modicum of that
dangerous quality.

"Perhaps you are right, Karl," added Max. "I may underrate the power of
this girl. As you have said, she is a little witch. But beneath her
laughter there is a rare show of tenderness and strength, which at
times seems pathetic and almost elfin. You are right, Karl. I will
devote myself to Twonette hereafter. She is like a feather-bed in that
she cannot be injured by a blow, neither can she give one; but
Yolanda--ah, Karl, she is like a priceless jewel that may be shattered
by a blow and may blind one by its radiance."

But Max's devotion to Twonette was a failure. She was certainly willing,
but Yolanda would have none of it, and with no equivocation gave every
one to understand as much. Still, she held Max at a respectful distance.
In fact, this Yolanda handled us all as a juggler tosses his balls. Max
must not be too attentive to her, and he must not be at all attentive to
Twonette. In this arrangement Twonette acquiesced. She would not dare to
lift her eyes to one upon whom Yolanda was looking!

Here was illustrated the complete supremacy of mind over matter.
Castleman, Twonette, Franz and his frau, Max and I, all danced when the
tiny white hand of Yolanda pulled the strings. A kiss or a saucy nod for
Castleman or Twonette, a smile or a frown for Max and me, were the
instruments wherewith she worked. Deftly she tur