"Yes," she answered softly, hanging her head, "more than any _man_, can know. It must be an intense longing that will drive a modest girl to boldness, such as I have shown ever since the day I first met you at dear old Basel. It almost broke my heart when father--fatherland--when Burgundy made war on Switzerland." The word "land" was a lucky thought, and came to the girl just in the nick of time. Max was too much interested in the girl to pay close attention to any slips she might make about the war with Switzerland. It is true he was now a soldier, and war was all right in its place; but there are things in life compared with which the wars of nations are trivial affairs. All subjects save one were unwelcome to him. "Now I am going to ask a promise from you, Fräulein," said Max, loosening his hand from her grasp and placing his arm about her waist. She offered no objections to the new situation, but blushed and looked down demurely to her folded hands. "It will, I fear, be very easy for you, Max, to induce me to promise anything you wish. It will be all too easy, for I am not strong, as you are." She glanced into his face, but her eyes fell quickly to her hands. "I shall soon leave you again, Fräulein, and what I wish is of such moment that I--I almost fear to ask." "Yes, Max," she murmured, gently reaching across his knee, and placing her hand in his by way of encouragement. "It is this, Fräulein. I am going back to Styria, and I want to carry with me your promise to be my wife," said Max, softly. The girl's head fell over against his shoulder, and she clasped his free hand between both of hers. "I will ask my father's consent," said Max. "I will tell him of you and of my great love, which is so great, Fräulein, that all the world is nothing beside it and beside you, and he will grant my request." "But if he doesn't, Max?" asked the face hidden upon his breast. "If he does not, Fräulein, I will forego my country and my estates. I will come back to you and will work in the fields, if need be, to make you as happy as you will make me." "There will be no need for that, Max," she answered, tears of happiness slowly trickling down her cheeks, "for I am rich." "That I am sorry to hear," he responded. "Don't you want to know who I am before you wed me?" she asked, after a long pause. She had almost made up her mind to tell him. "That you may tell me when you are my wife," said Max. "I thought you were the Princess Mary, but I am almost glad that you are not. I soon knew that I was wrong, for I knew that you would not deceive me." The girl winced and concluded to postpone telling her momentous secret. She was now afraid to do so. As a matter of fact, she had in her heart a healthy little touch of womanly cowardice on small occasions. After a long, delicious pause, Max said:-- "Have I your promise, Fräulein?"