e-christened "Day."
Castleman bestrode an ambling Flemish bay, almost as fat as its master
and quite as good-natured, which, because of its slowness, Yolanda
dubbed "Last Week."

We travelled slowly down the Rhine, enjoying the scenery and filling our
hearts with the sunshine of the soft spring days. Our cautious merchant
so arranged our lodging-places that we were never on the road after
dark. His system caused much delay, as we often rested a half-day in a
town that we might be able to lodge there over night. In this deliberate
manner of proceeding, life was a sweet, lazy holiday, and our journey
was like a May outing. We were all very happy--almost ominously so.

After the explanation between Max and Yolanda on the hill at Basel she
made no effort to avoid him, and he certainly did not avoid her. They
both evidently rested on his remark that he would never again speak
upon a certain subject. They fully understood each other's position.

Max knew that between him and the burgher maiden there could be no
thought of marriage. She, it seemed, was equally aware of that fact. All
that he had been taught to value in life--father, mother, family and
position, his father's subjects, who would one day be his, his father's
throne, on which he would one day sit--stood between him and Yolanda.
They stood between him and the achievement of any desire purely personal
to himself and not conducive to the welfare of his state. He felt that
he did not belong to himself; that his own happiness was never to be
considered. He belonged to his house, his people, and his ancestors.

Max had not only been brought up with that idea as the chief element in
his education, but he had also inherited it from two score generations
of men and women that had learned, believed, and taught the same lesson.
We may by effort efface the marks of our environment, but those we
inherit are bred in the bone. Yolanda was not for Max. He could not
control his heart; it took its inheritance of unbidden passion from a
thousand scores of generations which had lived and died and learned
their lesson centuries before the House of Hapsburg began; but he could
control his lips and his acts.

With Max's growing love for Yolanda came a knightly reverence which was
the very breath of the chivalry that he had sworn to uphold. This spirit
of reverence the girl was quick to observe, and he lost nothing by it in
her esteem. At times I could see that this reverential attit