a year of futile waiting the watch was abandoned. Anger, for a time, took the place of expectancy; Duke Frederick each day drowned his ill-humor in a gallon of sour wine, and remained silent on the subject of the Burgundian insult.

Max's attitude was that of a dignified man. He showed neither anger nor disappointment, but he kept the letter and the ring that Mary had sent him and mused upon his love for his ideal--the lady he had never seen.

A letter from Hymbercourt, that reached me nearly two years after this affair, spoke of a tender little maiden in Burgundy, whose heart throbbed with disappointment while it also clung to its ideal, as tender natures are apt to do. This hint in Hymbercourt's letter sank to the tenderest spot in Max's heart.

On Max's twenty-first birthday he was knighted by the emperor. A grand tournament, lasting five days, celebrated the event, and Max proved himself a man among men and a knight worthy of his spurs. I had trained him for months in preparation for this, his first great trial of strength and skill. He was not lacking in either, though they would mature only with his judgment. His strength was beyond compare. A man could hardly span his great arm with both hands.

Soon after Max was knighted, I brought up the subject of his journey into the world. I was again met by parental opposition; but Max was of age and his views had weight. If I could bring him to see the truth, the cause would be won. Unfortunately, it was not his desires I must overcome; it was his scruples. His head and his heart were full of false ideas and distorted motives absorbed from environment, inculcated by parental teaching, and inherited from twenty generations of fantastic forefathers. In-born motives in a conscientious person are stubborn tyrants, and Max was their slave. The time came when his false but honest standards cost him dearly, as you shall learn. But in Max's heart there lived another motive stronger than the will of man; it was love. Upon that string I chose to play.

One day while we were sunning ourselves on the battlements, I touched, as if by chance, on the theme dear to his heart--Mary of Burgundy. After a little time Max asked hesitatingly:--

"Have you written of late to my Lord d'Hymbercourt?"

"No," I answered.

A long pause followed; then Max continued: "I hope you will soon do so. He might write of--of--" He did not finish the sentence. I allowed him to remain in thought while I formulated my reply. After a time I said:--

"If you are still interested in the lady, why don't you go to Burgundy and try to win her?"

"That would be impossible," he answered.

"No, no, Max," I returned, "not impossible--- difficult, perhaps, but certainly not impossible."

"Ah, Karl, you but raise false hopes," he responded dolefully.

"You could at least see her," I returned, ignoring his protest, "and that, I have been told, is much comfort to a lover!"

"Indeed, it would be," said Max, frankly admitting the state of his heart.

"Or it might be that if you saw her, the illusion would be dispelled."

"I have little fear of that," he returned.

"It is true," I continued, "her father's domains are the richest on earth. He is proud and powerful, noble and arrogant; but you are just as proud and just as noble as he. You are penniless, and your estate will be of little value; your father is poor, and his mountain crags are a burden rather than a profit; but all Europe boasts no nobler blood than that of your house. Lift it from its penury. You are worthy of this lady, were her estates multiplied tenfold. Win the estates, Max, and win the lady. Many a man with half your capacity has climbed to the pinnacle of fame and fortune, though starting with none of your prestige. Why do you, born a mountain lion, stay mewed up in this castle like a purring cat in your mother's lap? For shame, Max, to waste your life when love, fortune, and fame beckon you beyond these dreary hills and call to you in tones that should arouse ambition in the dullest breast."

"Duke Charles has already insulted us," he replied.

"But his daughter has not," I answered quickly.

"That is true," returned Max, with a sigh, "but the Duke of Burgundy would turn me from his gates."

"Perhaps he would," I replied, "if you should knock and demand surrender to Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg. Take another name; be for a time a soldier of fortune. Bury the Count of Hapsburg for a year or two; be plain Sir Max Anybody. You will, at least, see the world and learn what life really is. Here is naught but dry rot and mould. Taste for once the zest of living; then come back, if you can, to this tomb. Come, come, Max! Let us to Burgundy to win this fair lady who awaits us and doubtless holds us faint of heart because we dare not strike for her. I shall have one more sweet draught of life before I die. You will learn a lesson that will give you strength for all the years to come, and will have, at least, a chance of winning the lady. It may be one chance in a million; but God favors the brave, and you have no chance if you remain perched owl-like upon this wilderness of rock. Max, you know not what awaits you. Rouse yourself from this sloth of a thousand years, and strike fire from the earth that shall illumine your name to the end of time!"

"But we have no money for our travels, and father has none to give me," he answered.

"True," I replied, "but I have a small sum in the hands of a merchant at Vienna that will support us for a time. When it is spent, we must make our bread or starve. That will be the best part of our experience. A struggle for existence sweetens it; and if we starve, we shall deserve the fate."

After three days Max gave me his answer.

"I will go with you, Karl," he said; "you have never led me wrong. If we starve, I shall not be much worse off than I am here in Styria. It hurts me to say that the love of my father and mother is my greatest danger; but it is true. They have lived here so long, feeding on the poor adulation of a poor people, that they do not see life truly. I have had none of the joys and pleasures which, my heart tells me, life holds. I have known nothing but this existence--hard and barren as the rocks that surround me. I must, in time, return to Styria and take up my burden, but, Karl, I will first live."

KARL AND MAX AT HAPSBURG CASTLE.

After this great stand, Max and I attacked first the father fortress and then the mother stronghold. The latter required a long siege; but at last it surrendered unconditionally, and the day was appointed when Max and I should ride out in quest of fortune, and, perhaps, a-bride-hunting. Neither of us mentioned Burgundy. I confess to telling--at least, to acting--a lie. We said that we wished to go to my people in Italy, and to visit Rome, Venice, and other cities. I said that I had a small sum of gold that I should be glad to use; but I did not say how small it was, and no hint was dropped that the heir to Styria might be compelled to soil his hands by earning his daily bread. We easily agreed among ourselves that Max and I, lacking funds to travel in state befitting a prince of the House of Hapsburg, should go incognito. I should keep my own name, it being little known. Max should take the name of his mother's house, and should be known as Sir Maximilian du Guelph.

At last came the momentous day of our departure. The battlements of the gate were crowded with retainers, many of them in tears at losing "My young Lord, the Count." Public opinion in Castle Hapsburg unanimously condemned the expedition, and I was roundly abused for what was held to be my part in the terrible mistake. Such an untoward thing had never before happened in the House of Hapsburg. Its annals nowhere revealed a journey