"Ah, Sir Karl said you were from Lombardy," answered the girl.

"Well--that is--originally, perhaps, I was," he returned.

"Perhaps your family lives in both places?" she asked very seriously.

"Yes, that is the way of it," he responded.

"Were you born in both places?" asked Yolanda, without the shadow of a
smile. Max was thinking of the little lie he was telling and did not
analyze her question.

"No," he answered, in simple honesty, "you see I could not be born in
two places. That would be impossible."

"Perhaps it would be," replied Yolanda, with perfect gravity. Max was
five years her senior, but he was a boy, while she had the self-command
of a quick-witted woman, though she still retained the saucy
impertinence of childhood. Slow-going, guileless Max began to suspect a
lurking intention on Yolanda's part to quiz him.

"Did not Sir Karl say something about your having been born in Styria?"
asked the girl, glancing slyly at the ring.

"No, he did not," answered Max, emphatically. "I suppose I was born in
Rome--no, I mean Lombardy--but it cannot matter much to you, Fräulein,
where I was born if I do not wish to tell."

The direct course was as natural to Max as breathing. The girl was