Duke Frederick, with my help, composed a letter in reply to Burgundy's
message. It required many days of work to bring it to a form sufficient
in dignity, yet ample in assent. The missive must answer "yes" so
emphatically as to leave no room for doubt in Burgundy's mind, yet it
must show no eagerness on the part of Styria. (Duke Frederick always
spoke of himself as Styria.) Burgundy must be made to appreciate the
honor of this alliance; still, the fact must not be offensively
thrust upon him.

The letter was sent, and Charles of Burgundy probably laughed at it.
Duke Frederick appointed commissioners and fixed Cannstadt as the place
of meeting. Whatever Duke Charles's reasons for making the offer of
marriage may have been, they probably ceased to exist soon afterward,
for he never even replied to Duke Frederick's acceptance. For months
Castle Hapsburg was in a ferment of expectancy. A watch stood from dawn
till dusk on the battlements of the keep, that the duke might be
informed of the approach of the Burgundian messenger--that never came.
After 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