Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy Part 13

We listened in silence, and I beckoned the squires to our sides. The men of our little party all dismounted and stood by their horses' heads, ready to strike the noses of the animals should they offer to salute the horses across the river with a neigh. Had not our danger been so great it would have been amusing to see each man, with uplifted hand, watching the eyes of his horse as intently as though they were the eyes of his lady-love. Yolanda laughed despite the danger, but covered her mouth with her hand when I frowned warningly.

Presently we heard the tramping of horses and the voices of men across the river, and soon the duke approached at a canter. I could not help speculating on the consequences should His Grace know that Yolanda was watching him--if Yolanda were his daughter.

That "if" would surely be the death of me.

When the duke had pa.s.sed a little way down the road, I peered through the bushes and saw the dust-cloud ahead of us.

We could not venture from our hiding-place till the duke was out of sight, and by the delay we lost a good half-league in our race. I asked Yolanda if she knew how far it was to the next point of contact, She did not know, but I learned from a peasant that the river made a great bend, and that our road gained nearly a league over the other before each again touched the river. This was our great chance.

We put our horses to their best; and when we again reached the river, Max, who was riding in advance, announced that the other cavalcade was not in sight. If it had pa.s.sed, our race was lost; if it had not, we felt that we could easily ride into Peronne ahead of Duke Charles. At that point the roads followed the river within a stone's throw of each other for a great distance. If the duke had not reached this point, our need for haste was greater than ever before. We must be beyond the open stretch before the other cavalcade should come up to it.

Our poor blown horses were loath to run, but we urged them to it. When we had covered half this open road, we took to the sod at the roadside to avoid raising a telltale cloud of dust. After a hard gallop we reached a forest where the road again left the river. Here we halted to breathe our horses and to watch the road on the right bank. After ten minutes we became uneasy and began to fear that the duke's cavalcade had pa.s.sed us, but Max insisted that our fears were groundless.

"Their dust could not have settled so quickly," he declared. "We should see at least traces of it. They cannot have pa.s.sed."

"One cannot help believing," said Yolanda, musingly, "that there are men who command the elements. One would almost say they make the rain to fall or to cease, the wind to rise or to drop, to suit their purposes, and the dust to lie quietly beneath their horses' feet. I pray G.o.d we may soon know, else I shall surely die of suspense."

"There are also some persons, Fraulein, whom G.o.d answers quickly," said Max, looking under his hand down the road. "Do you see yonder dust-cloud? It is a good two miles back of us."

"It may not be the duke," said Yolanda, doubtingly.

"Let us trust it is," said Max, "and lose no more time here."

We watered our horses at a small brook and entered the forest, feeling that our race was won. The exultation of victory was upon Yolanda, and her buoyant spirits mounted to the skies. All fear and gloom had left her. She laughed and sang, and the sunshine of her humor filled all our hearts with delight. Since leaving Metz we had travelled so rapidly, and a cloud of uncertainty and fear was so constantly over us, that Yolanda had spoken little to Max or to any one; but now that victory was in her grasp, she intended to waste not one moment more in troubled thoughts and painful fears.

"Ride beside me, Sir Max," she cried, beckoning him as if she were a great princess and he her page. Max spurred his horse to her side, and after a moment Twonette fell back with me. I overheard all that was said between Max and Yolanda, and though I do not pretend to quote accurately, I will give you the substance of their conversation.

"I cannot help laughing," she said, suiting the action to the word, "over our tragic parting at Metz. We were separated a whole day!"

"But we supposed it was to be for a very long time," said Max. "We--that is, I--feared I should never see you again. As it was, the day seemed long to me, Fraulein."

The girl laughed joyously. She had, you remember, offered Max to the Virgin at Strasburg. Perhaps part of her joy was because the Queen of Heaven had returned him to her.

"I should like to try a separation for many days," she said.

"You will soon have the opportunity," returned Max, with wounded vanity.

She paid no heed to his remark, and continued:--

"The second day would not seem so long to you. The third would be still shorter, and at the end of a fortnight--nay, at the end of a week--you would wonder how you were ever brought to fix your eyes on a poor burgher girl, even for a pa.s.sing moment--you, a great lord. You see, I have no vast estates to hold you constant, such as those possessed by the forward lady who sent you the letter and the ring. Do you know, Sir Max, if I were very fond of you,--if I were your sweetheart,--I should be jealous of this brazen lady, very jealous."

There was a glint in her eyes that might have caused one to believe the jealousy already existed.

"Your raillery ill becomes you," said Max, half sullenly. "If I forget my rank and hold it of small account for your sake, you should not make a jest of it."

You see, he had not entirely washed out of himself the ceremonious starch of Hapsburg.

She glanced quickly toward him and answered poutingly:--

"If you don't like my jesting, Sir Max, you may leave me to ride alone."

"You asked me to ride with you," returned Max, "but if you have changed your mind and insist on being ill-tempered, I will--"

She reached out her hand, and, grasping his bridle-reins, threw them over the pommel of her saddle.

"Now let me see what you will do, my great Lord Somebody," she cried defiantly. "You shall not only ride beside me, but you shall also listen good-humoredly to my jests when I am pleased to make them, and bear with my ill-humor when I am pleased to be ill-humored."

Max left the bridle-reins in her hand, but did not smile. She was not to be driven from her mood.

"You are such a serious person, Sir Max, that you must, at times, feel yourself a great weight--almost burdensome--to carry about." She laughed, though his resentment had piqued her, and there was a dash of anger in her words. "Ponderous persons are often ridiculous and are apt to tire themselves with their own weight--no, Sir Max, you can't get away. I have your reins."

"I can dismount," returned Max, "and leave you my horse to lead."

He turned to leave his saddle, but she caught his arm, rode close to his side, and, slipping her hand down his sleeve, clasped his hand--if a hand so small as hers can be said to clasp one so large as his.

A beautiful woman is born with a latent consciousness of her power over the subjugated s.e.x. Max found in the soft touch of the girl's hand a wonderful antidote to her sharp words. She continued to hold his hand as compensation while she said, laughing nervously:--

"Sir Max, you are still young. A friend would advise you: Never lose a chance to laugh, even though it be at your own expense. There will always be opportunity to grieve and be gloomy. I tell you frankly, Sir Max, I almost wept when I bade you good-by at Metz. Now, I am telling you my state secret and am giving you more than you have asked."

Max joyfully interrupted her:--

"I can forgive you all your raillery, Fraulein, for that admission."

"Yes, I confess it is a very important admission," she said, in half-comic seriousness, "but you see, I really did weep when I parted from my great mastiff, Caesar, at Peronne."

The saucy turn was made so quickly that its humor took Max unawares, and he laughed.

"There, there! Sir Max, there is hope for you," she cried exultantly.

Then she continued, stealing a side glance at him, "I loved Caesar very, very much."

There was a satisfying implication in her laughing words, owing to the fact that she had almost wept at Metz. Max was eager to take advantage of the opportunity her words gave him, for his caution was rapidly oozing away; but he had placed a seal on his lips, and they were shut--at least, for the time. His silence needed no explanation to Yolanda, and she continued laughingly:--

"Yes, I almost wept. Perhaps I did weep. I will not say truly that I did not, Sir Max, but within an hour I was laughing at my foolish self and feared that you, too, would be laughing at me. I wondered if in all the world there was another burgher maiden so great a fool as to lift her eyes to a mighty lord, or to think that he could lower his eyes to her with true intent."

At that point in the conversation I felt that the seal upon Max's lips would not stand another attack. It was sure to melt; so I rode to Yolanda's side and interrupted the interesting colloquy.

Max supposed the girl to be of the burgher cla.s.s, and if by any chance she were Mary of Burgundy, he might ruin his future, should he become too insistent upon his rank in explaining the reasons why he could not follow the path of his inclinations. He might make himself ridiculous; and that mistake will ruin a man with any woman, especially if she be young and much inclined to laugh.

During the foregoing conversation we had been travelling at a six-mile canter. The day was warm, and I suggested breathing the horses in the shade of the forest.

"I believe we are approaching the river," I said, "and we should rest the horses before taking a dash over the open road."

Yolanda a.s.sented--in a manner she seemed to have taken command of the party--and we halted under the trees. Max rode forward to a point from which he could view the other road, and waved his hand to let us know that the duke was not in sight. We immediately put spurs to our horses and covered the stretch of open road by the river in a short, brisk gallop. On leaving the road again we saw no indication of the duke's cavalcade. Evidently the race was ours by an easy canter. From that point to within two miles of Peronne, Yolanda's song was as joyous as that of a wooing bird. The sun beat down upon us, and blinding clouds of dust rose from every plunge of our horses' hoofs; but Yolanda's song transformed our hot, wearisome journey into a triumphant march.

Happiness seemed to radiate from her and to furnish joy for all.

For a stretch of two miles up river from Peronne the roads approached each other, but, owing to an intervening marsh, they were fully half a mile apart. We, or at least Yolanda, had apparently forgotten the duke when, near the hour of eight in the morning, we approached the marsh; but when we entered the open country we saw, to our consternation, the duke's cavalcade within one mile of Peronne. Where they had pa.s.sed us we did not know, nor did we stop to consider. They were five minutes ahead, and if we could not enter Peronne in advance of them, it were no worse had they been a day before us.

Yolanda cast one frightened glance toward the duke's party, and struck her horse a blow with her whip that sent it bounding forward at a furious gallop. We reached the river and were crossing as the duke entered Cambrai Gate--the north entrance to the city. We would enter by the gate on the south known as the Somme Gate; Cambrai Gate was nearer the castle.

The duke, I supposed, would go directly to the castle; where Yolanda would go I could not guess. From outside the Somme Gate we saw the duke enter Cambrai, but after we had pa.s.sed under the arch we could not see him for a time because of intervening houses. The huge, grim pile of stone known as Peronne Castle loomed ominously on the opposite side of the small town. Yolanda veiled herself before pa.s.sing under the gate and hastened, though without conspicuous speed, toward the castle.