n. A man's happiness
depends entirely on the number and quality of those to whom his love
goes out. Before meeting Yolanda I drew all my happiness from loving one
person--Max. Now my source was doubled, and I wished for the first time
that I might live my life again, to lay it at this girl's feet.

CHAPTER XVII

TRIAL BY COMBAT

Max had waited until Calli's arm was mended to bring up the subject of
the trial by combat; but when he would have taken it before the duke, I
dissuaded him by many pretexts, and for a few days it was dropped. But
soon it was brought forward in a most unpleasant way. Max and I were in
the streets of Peronne one afternoon, and as we approached a group of
ragged boys, one of them cried out:--

"There is the fellow that challenged Count Calli, but won't fight him!"

Max turned upon the boy, caught him roughly by the shoulder, and asked
him where he got his information. The frightened boy replied that his
father was a hostler in the duke's stables, and had heard Count Calli
say that the fellow who had challenged him was "all gauntlet but
no fight."

We at once sought Hymbercourt, who, on being closely questioned,
admitted that the Italians in the castle were boasting that the stranger
who seemed so eager to fight when Calli's arm was lame, had lost his
courage now that the arm was healed.

Of course I was in a deal of trouble over this combat, and heartily
wished the challenge had never been given, though I had all faith in
Max's strength and skill. I, who had fought constantly for twenty years,
had trained him since his tenth birthday. I had not only trained him; I
had introduced him to the lists at eighteen--he being well grown, strong
of limb, and active as a wildcat. I waged him against a famous tilt-yard
knight, and Max held his own manfully, to his great credit and to my
great joy. The battle was a draw. My first great joy in life came a few
months afterward, when Max unhorsed this same knight, and received the
crown of victory from the queen of the lists.

But this combat would be a battle of death. Two men would enter the
lists; one would die in the course.

Max could, with propriety, announce his title and refuse to fight one so
far beneath him as Calli; but even my love for the boy and my fear of
the outcome, could not induce me to advise this. The advice would have
been little heeded had I given it. Max was not one in whose heart hatred
could thrive, but every man should ha