CHAPTER VIII
ON THE MOAT BRIDGE
Awaiting Castleman's return, we remained housed up at The Mitre, seldomgoing farther abroad than Grote's garden save in the early morning orafter dark. But despite our caution trouble befell us, as our burgherfriend had predicted.
Within a week Max began to go out after dark without asking me toaccompany him. When he came into our room late one evening, I askedcarelessly where he had been. I knew where he had been going, and hadburned to speak, but the boy was twenty-two. Within the last few monthshe had grown out of my tutelage, and his native strength of characterhad taught me to respect him and in a certain way to fear him. From thepromptness of his reply I thought that he had wished me to askconcerning his outgoing and incoming.
"I have been to the bridge over the moat, near Castleman's House underthe Wall," he answered.
"What did you there?" I asked, seeing his willingness to be questioned.
"I stood there--I--I--" He paused, laughed, and stammered on. "I lookedat the castle and at the moat, like a silly fool, and--and--"
"Castleman's house?" I suggested, helping him out.
"Y-e-s," he answered hesitatingly, "I could not help seeing it. It isclose by the bridge--not twenty paces distant."
"Did you see any one else--except the house?" I asked.
"No," he returned promptly. "I did not want to see any one else. If Ihad I should have entered the house."
"Why, then, did you go to the bridge?" I queried.
"I cannot answer that question even to myself," he replied. "I--I--thereis a constant hungering for her, Karl, that I cannot overcome; it seemsas if I am compelled to go to the bridge, though I know I should not. Itis very foolish in me, I am sure, but--"
"I heartily agree with you," I answered. "It is not only foolish, it isrash; and it may bring you great trouble."
I did not deem it necessary to tell him that he was following in thefootsteps of his race. I left him to suppose that he was the only foolof the sort that had ever lived. The thought would abate his vanity.
"But I _must_ go to the bridge," he continued, finishing the sentence Ihad interrupted, "and I do not see how there can be evil in it."
"No, Max, it Is not wrong in itself," I said reprovingly; "butCastleman, evidently for good reasons, asked you to stay away from hishouse, and counselled us to remain close at the inn. It has also thisevil in it for you, aside from the danger: it will make your duty harderto perform. When a man longs for what he may not have, he should notthink upon it, much less act on it. Our desires, like covetousness andjealousy, feed upon themselves. We may, if we but knew it, augment orabate them at will."
"I shall always think on--on my love for Yolanda," he replied. "I wouldnot abate it one jot; I would augment it in my heart. But, Karl--yousee, Karl, it is not a question of my own strength to resist. I need nostrength. There is no more reason for you to warn me against this dangerthan to admonish a child not to long for a star, fearing he might getit. The longing may be indulged with impunity; the star and the dangerare out of reach."
I had nothing to say; Max was stronger and nobler than ever I hadbelieved.
Max continued to go to the bridge, and I made no effort to prevent him.Meddling mars more frequently than it mends, and when the Fates areleading, a man is a fool to try to direct their course. Whatever was tobe would be. Fate held Max by the hand and was leading him. I almostfeared to move or to speak in his affairs, lest I should make a mistakeand offend these capricious Fates. The right or the wrong of his visitsto the moat depended entirely upon the answer to my riddle, "Who isYolanda?" and I dared not put it to the touch.
On one occasion he returned from the bridge, and without lighting thelamp, sat on the arm of my chair. The moonlight streaming through thewindow illumined his head as with a halo. He tossed the damp curls fromhis face, and his eyes were aglow with joy. There was no need to tell mewhat had happened, but he told me.
"Ah, Karl, I've seen the star," he cried triumphantly. He was but aboy-man, you must remember.
"I was sure you would see her," I answered. "How did you bring themeeting about?"
"I did not bring it about," he answered, laughing softly. "The star cameto the child."
"All things come to him that waits at the bridge," I repliedsarcastically. He paid no heed to the sarcasm, but continued:--
"She happened to be near the bridge when I got there, and she came tome, Karl,--she came to me like a real star falling out of the darkness."
That little fact solved once more my great riddle--at least, it solvedit for a time. Yolanda was not Mary of Burgundy. I had little knowledgeof princesses and their ways, but I felt sure they were not in the habitof lurking in dark places or wandering by sluggish moats in the blackshadow of a grim castle. A princess would not and could not have beenloitering by the bridge near the House under the Wall. Castleman's wordsconcerning Yolanda's residence under his roof came back and convinced methat my absurd theory concerning her identity was the dream of a madman.
"She happened to be near the bridge?" I asked, with significantemphasis.
"Perhaps I should not have used the word 'happened,'" returned Max.
"I thought as much. What did she have to say for herself, Max?"
"If I were not sure of your devotion, Karl, I should not answer aquestion concerning Yolanda put in such a manner," he replied; "but I'lltell you. When I stepped on the bridge, she came running to me from theshadow of the trees. Her arms were uplifted, and she moved so swiftlyand with such grace one could almost think she was flying--"
"Witches fly," I interrupted. My remark checked his flow of enthusiasm.After a long silence I queried, "Well?"
Max began again.
"She gave me her hand and said: 'I knew you would come again, Sir Max. Isaw you from the battlements last night and the night before and thenight before that. I could not, with certainty, recognize you from sogreat a distance, but I was sure you would come to the bridge--I do notknow why, but I was sure you would come; so to-night I too came. Youcannot know the trouble I took or the risk I ran in coming. You have notseen me for many days, yet you remember me and have come five times tothe bridge. I was wrong when I said you would forget the burgher girlwithin a fortnight. Sir Max, you are a marvel of constancy.' At thatmoment the figures of two men appeared on the castle battlements,silhouetted against the moon; they seemed of enormous stature, magnifiedin the moonlight. One of them was the Duke of Burgundy. I recognized himby his great beard, of which I have heard you speak. Yolanda caught oneglimpse of the men and ran back to the house without so much as givingme a word of farewell."
"What did you say during the brief interview?" I asked.
"Not one word," he replied.
"By my soul, you are an ardent lover," I exclaimed.
"I think she understood me," Max replied, confidently; and doubtless hewas right.
Once more the riddle was solved. A few more solutions and there would bea mad Styrian in Burgundy. My reflections were after this fashion:Princesses, after all, do wander by the moat side and loiter by thebridge. Princesses do go on long journeys with no lady-in-waiting to dotheir bidding and no servants ready at their call. Yolanda was Mary ofBurgundy, thought I, and Max had been throwing away God-givenopportunities. Had she not seen Max from the battlements, and had shenot fled at sight of the duke? These two small facts were but scantevidence of Yolanda's royalty, but they seemed sufficient.
"What would you have me say, Karl?" asked Max. "You would not have mespeak more than I have already said and win her love beyond her power towithdraw it. That I sometimes believe I might do, but if my regard forher is true, I should not wish to bring unhappiness to her for the sakeof satisfying my selfish vanity. If I am not mistaken, a woman wouldsuffer more than a man from such a misfortune."
Here, truly, was a generous love. It asked only the privilege of giving,and would take nothing in return because it could not give all. IfYolanda were Mary of Burgundy, Max might one day have a reward
worthy ofhis virtue. Yolanda's sweetness and beauty and Mary's rich domain wouldsurely be commensurate with the noblest virtue. I was not willing thatMax should cease wooing Yolanda--if I might give that word to hisconduct--until I should know certainly that she was not the princess.This, I admit, was cruel indifference to Yolanda's peace of mind orpain of heart, if Max should win her love and desert her.
Because of a faint though dazzling ray of hope, I encouraged Max afterthis to visit the bridge over the moat, dangerous though it was; andeach night I received an account of his doings. Usually the account wasbrief and pointless. He went, he stood upon the bridge, he saw the Houseunder the Wall, he returned to the inn. But a night came when he hadstirring adventures to relate.
At the time of which I am writing every court in Europe had its clusterof genteel vagabonds,--foreigners,--who stood in high favor. Thesehangers-on, though perhaps of the noblest blood in their own lands, wereusually exiles from their native country. Some had been banished forcrimes; others had wandered from their homes, prompted by the love ofroaming so often linked with unstable principles and recklessdispositions. Burgundy under Charles the Rash was a paradise for thesegentry. The duke, who was so parsimonious with the great and wise Philipde Comines that he drove him to the court of Louis XI, was open-handedwith these floating villains.
In imitation of King Louis's Scotch guard, Charles had an Italian guard.The wide difference in the wisdom of these princes is nowhere moredistinctly shown than in the quality of the men they chose to guardthem. Louis employed the simple, honest, brave Scot. Charles chose themost guileful of men. They were true only to self-interest, brave onlyin the absence of danger. The court of Burgundy swarmed with theseItalian mercenaries, many of whom had followed Charles to Peronne. CountCampo-Basso, who afterward betrayed Charles, was their chief. Among hisfollowers was a huge Lombard, a great bully, who bore the name ofCount Calli.
On the evening of which I speak Max had hardly stepped on the bridgewhen Yolanda ran to him.
"I have been waiting for you, Sir Max," she said. "You are late. Ifeared you would not come. I have waited surely an hour, though I amloath to confess it lest you think me a too willing maiden."
"It would be hard, Fraeulein, for me to think you too willing--you arebut gracious and kind, and I thank you," answered Max. "But you have notwaited an hour. Darkness has fallen barely a quarter of that time."
"I was watching long before dark on the battlements, and--"
"On the battlements, Fraeulein?" asked Max, in surprise.
"I mean from--from the window battlements in uncle's house. I've beenout here under the trees since nightfall, and that seems to have been atleast an hour ago. Don't you understand, Sir Max?" she continued,laughing softly and speaking as if in jest; "the longer I know you themore shamefully eager I become; but that is the way with a maid and aman. She grows more eager and he grows less ardent, and I doubt not thetime will soon arrive, Sir Max, when you will not come at all, and Ishall be left waiting under the trees to weep in loneliness."
Max longed to speak the words that were in his heart and near his lips,but he controlled himself under this dire temptation and remainedsilent. After a long pause she stepped close to him and asked:--
"Did you not want me to come?"
Max dared not tell her how much he had wanted her to come, so he went tothe other extreme--he must say something--and, in an excess ofcaution, said:--
"I would not have asked you to come, Fraeulein, though I much desired it;but sober judgment would prompt me to wish that--that is, I--ah,Fraeulein, I did not want you to come to the bridge."
She laughed softly and said:--
"Now, Little Max, you do not speak the truth. You did want me to come,else why do you come to the bridge? Why do you come?"
In view of all the facts in the case the question was practicallyunanswerable unless Max wished to tell the truth, so he evadedby saying:--
"I do not know."
She looked quickly up to his face and stepped back from him:--
"Did you come to see Twonette? I had not thought of her. She is butdrained milk and treacle. Do you want to see her, Sir Max? If so, I'llreturn to the house and send her to you."
"Fraeulein, I need not answer your question," returned Max, convincingly.
"But I love Twonette. I know you do not come to see her, and I shouldnot have spoken as I did," said Yolanda, penitently.
Perhaps her penitential moods were the most bewitching--certainly theywere the most dangerous--of all her many phases.
"You know why I come to the bridge, even though I do not," said Max."Tell me, Fraeulein, why I come."
"That is what you may tell me. I came to hear it," she answered softly,hanging her head.
"I may not speak, Fraeulein," he replied, with a deep, regretful sigh."What I said to you on the road from Basel will be true as long as Ilive, but we agreed that it should not again be spoken between us. Foryour sake more than for mine it is better that I remain silent."
Yolanda hung her head, while her fingers were nervously busy with thepoints of her bodice. She uttered a low laugh, flashed her eyes uponhim for an instant, and again the long lashes shaded them.
"You need not be _too_ considerate for my sake, Sir Max," she whispered;"though--though I confess that I never supposed any man could bring meto this condition of boldness."
Max caught her hands, and, clasping them between his own, drew the girltoward him. The top of her head was below his chin, and the deliciousscent from her hair intoxicated his senses. She felt his great frametremble with emotion, and a thrill of exquisite delight sped throughevery fibre of her body, warming every drop of blood in her veins. ButMax, by a mighty effort, checked himself, and remained true to hisself-imposed renunciation in word and act. After a little time she drewher hands from his, saying:--
"You are right, Max, to wish to save yourself and me from pain."
"I wish to save you, Yolanda. I want the pain; I hope it will cling tome all my life. I want to save you from it."
"Perhaps you are beginning too late, Max," said the girl, sighing,"but--but after all you are right. Even as you see our situation it isimpossible for us to be more than we are to each other. But if you knewall the truth, you would see how utterly hopeless is the future in whichI at one time thought I saw a ray of hope. Our fate is sealed, Max; weare doomed. Before long you shall know. I will soon tell you all."
"Do you wish to tell me now, Fraeulein?" he asked.
"No," she whispered.
"In your own good time, Yolanda. I would not urge you."
Max understood Yolanda's words to imply that her station in life waseven lower than it seemed, or that there was some taint upon herself orher family. Wishing to assure her that such a fact could not influencehim, he said:--
"You need not fear to tell me all concerning yourself or your family.There can be no stain upon you, and even though your station beless than--"
"Hush, Max, hush," she cried, placing her hand protestingly against hisbreast. "You do not know what you are saying. There is no stain on me ormy family."
Max wondered, but was silent; he had not earned the right to beinquisitive.
The guard appeared at that moment on the castle battlements, and Max andYolanda sought the shelter of a grove of trees a dozen paces from thebridge on the town side of the moat. They seated themselves on a bench,well within the shadow of the trees, and after a moment's silenceMax said:--
"I shall not come to the bridge again, Fraeulein. I'll wait till youruncle returns, when I shall see you at his house. Then I'll say farewelland go back to the hard rocks of my native land--and to a life harderthan the rocks."
"You are right in your resolve not to come again to the bridge," saidYolanda, "for so long as you come, I, too, shall come--when I can. Thatwill surely bring us trouble sooner or later. But when Uncle Castlemanreturns, you must come to his house, and I shall see you there. As toyour leaving Peronne, we will talk of that later. It is not to bethought of now
."
She spoke with the confidence of one who felt that she might command himto stay or order him to go. She would settle that little pointfor herself.
"I will go, Fraeulein," said Max, "soon after your uncle's return."
"Perhaps it will be best, but we will determine that when we must--whenthe time comes that we can put it off no longer. Now, I wish you togrant me three promises, Sir Max. First, ask me no questions concerningmyself. Of course, you will ask them of no one else; I need not demandthat promise of you."
"I gladly promise," he answered. "What I already know of you isall-sufficient."
"Second, do not fail to come to my uncle's house when he invites you.His home is worthy to receive the grandest prince in the world. My--mylord, Duke Philip the Good, was Uncle Castleman's dear friend. The oldduke, when in Peronne, dined once a week with my uncle. Although uncleis a burgher, he could have been noble. He refused a lordship anddeclined the Order of the Golden Fleece, preferring the freedom of hisown caste. I have always thought he acted wisely."
"Indeed he was wise," returned Max. "You that have never known therestraints of one born to high estate cannot fully understand howwise he was."
Yolanda glanced up to Max with amusement in her eyes:--
"Ah, yes! For example, there is poor Mary of Burgundy, who is to marrythe French Dauphin. I pity her. For all we know, she may be longing foranother man as I--I longed for my mastiff, Caesar, when I was away. Bythe way, Sir Max, are you still wearing the ring?" She took his hand andfelt for the ring on his finger. "Ah, you have left it off," she criedreproachfully, answering her own question.
"Yes," answered Max. "There have been so many changes within the lastfew weeks that I have taken it off, and--and I shall cease to wear it."
"Then give it to me, Sir Max," she cried excitedly.
"I may not do that, Fraeulein," answered Max. "It was given to me by oneI respect."
"I know who the lady is," answered Yolanda, tossing her head saucily andspeaking with a dash of irritation in her voice.
"Ah, you do?" asked Max. "Tell me now, my little witch, who is the lady?If you know so much tell me."
Yolanda lifted her eyes solemnly toward heaven, invoking the help of hernever failing familiar spirit.
"I see an unhappy lady," she said, speaking in a low whisper, "whosefather is one of the richest and greatest princes in all the world. Afew evenings ago while we were standing on the moat bridge talking, Isaw the lady's father on the battlements of yonder terrible castle. Hisform seemed magnified against the sky till it was of unearthly size andterrible to look on--doubly terrible to those who know him. If sheshould disobey her father, he would kill her with his battle-axe, Iverily believe, readily as he would crush a rebellious soldier. Yet shefears him not, because she is of his own dauntless blood and fears notdeath itself. She is to marry the Dauphin of France, and her wishes areof so small concern, I am told that she has not yet been notified. Thisterrible man will sell his daughter as he would barter a horse. She ispowerless to move in her own behalf, being bound hand and foot by theremorseless shackles of her birth. She will become an unhappy queen,and, if she survives her cruel father, she will, in time, take to herhusband this fat land of Burgundy, for the sake of which he wishes tomarry her. She is Mary of Burgundy, and even I, poor and mean ofstation, pity her. She--gave--you--the--ring."
"How did you learn all this, Fraeulein? You are not guessing, as youwould have had me believe, and you would not lie to me. What you havejust said is a part with what you said at Basel and at Strasburg. Howdid you learn it, Fraeulein?"
"Twonette," answered Yolanda.
That simple explanation was sufficient for Max. Yolanda might verylikely know the private affairs of the Princess Mary through Twonette,who was a friend of Her Highness.
"But you have not promised to visit Uncle Castleman's house when heinvites you," said Yolanda, drawing Max again to the bench beside her.
"I gladly promise," said Max.
"That brings me to the third promise I desire," said Yolanda. "I wantyou to give me your word that you will not leave Burgundy within onemonth from this day, unless I give you permission."
"I cannot grant you that promise, Fraeulein," answered Max.
"Ah, but you must, you shall," cried Yolanda, desperately clutching hishuge arms with her small hands and clinging to him. "I will scream, Iwill waken the town. I will not leave you, and you shall not shake meoff till I have your promise. I may not give you my reasons, but trustme, Max, trust me. Give me your unquestioning faith for once. I am not afool, Max, nor would I lie to you for all the world, in telling you thatit is best for you to give me the promise. Believe me, while there maybe risk to me in what I ask, it is best that you grant it, and that youremain in Peronne for a month--perhaps for two months, unless I soonertell you to go."
"I may not give you the promise you ask, Fraeulein," answered Max,desperately. "You must know how gladly I would remain here forever."
"I believe truly you want to stay," she answered demurely, "else Isurely would not ask this promise of you. Your unspoken words have beenmore eloquent than any vows your lips could coin, and I know what is inyour heart, else my boldness would have been beyond excusing. What Iwish is that your desire should be great enough to keep you when I askyou to remain."
"I may not think of myself or my own desires, Fraeulein," he answered."Like the lady of Burgundy, I was shackled at my birth."
"The lady of Burgundy is ever in your mind," Yolanda retorted sullenly."You would give this promise quickly enough were she asking it--shewith her vast estate."
There was an angry gleam in the girl's eyes, and a dark cloud ofunmistakable jealousy on her face. She stepped back from Max and hungher head. After a moment of silence she said:--
"You may answer me to-morrow night at this bridge, Sir Max. If you donot see fit to give me the promise, then I shall weary you no furtherwith importunity, and you may go your way."
There was a touch of coldness in her voice as she turned and walkedslowly toward the bridge. Max called softly:--
"Yolanda!"
She did not answer, but continued with slow steps and drooping head. Asher form was fading into the black shadow of the castle wall he ranacross the bridge to her, and took her hand:--
"Fraeulein, I will be at the bridge to-morrow night, and I will try togive the promise you ask of me."
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