at crime. After
that black felony, they became like links of Milan chain. I shared her
secrets, great and small.

One day while Yolanda and I were sitting in the oak room,--the room from
which the panel opened into the stairway in the wall,--I said to her:--

"If your letter 't' causes a break with France, perhaps Max's
opportunity may come."

"I do not know--I cannot hope," she responded dolefully. "You see, when
father made this treaty with France, he was halting between two men in
the choice of a husband for me. One was the Dauphin, son to King Louis,
whom father hates with every breath he draws. The other was the Duke of
Gelders, whom father really likes. Gelders is a brute, Sir Karl. He kept
his father in prison four years, and usurped his domain. He is a
drunkard, a murderer, and a profligate. For reasons of state father
chose the Dauphin, but if the treaty with France is broken, I suppose it
will be Gelders again. If it comes to that, Sir Karl--but I'll not say
what I'll do. My head is full of schemes from morning till night, and
when I sleep my poor brain is a whirl of visions. Self-destruction,
elopement, and I know not what else appeal to me. How far is it to
Styria, Sir Karl?" she asked abruptly.

"Two or three hundred leagues, perhaps--it may be more," I answered. "I
do not know how far it is, Yolanda, but it is not far enough for your
purposes. Even could you reach there, Styria could not protect you."

"I was not thinking of--of what you suppose, Sir Karl," she said
plaintively.

"What were you thinking of, Yolanda?" I asked.

"Of nothing--of--of--a wild dream of hiding away from the world in some
unknown corner, at times comes to me in my sleep--only in my sleep, Sir
Karl--for in my waking hours I know it to be impossible. The only
pleasant part of being a princess is that the world envies you; but what
a poor bauble it is to buy at the frightful price I pay!"

"I have been on mountain tops," I answered philosophically, "and I find
that breathing grows difficult as one ascends."

"Ah, Sir Karl," she answered tearfully, "I believe I'll go upstairs and
weep."

I led her to the moving panel and opened it for her. Without turning her
face she held back her hand for me to kiss. Then she started up the dark
stone steps, and I knew that she was weeping. I closed the panel and sat
on the cushioned bench. To say that I would have given my old life to
win happiness for her but poorly measures my devotio