"Teach me, Karl, to stand before the glass," said Max, plaintively.

"You are before it now, my dear boy," I answered. "These new friends are
giving you only what you give them. With me, you have always been before
the glass."

"That has been true," said Max, "ever since the first day you entered
Hapsburg. Do you remember? I climbed on your knee and said, 'You have a
big, ugly nose!' Mother admonished me, and I quickly made amends by
saying, 'But I like you.'"

"I well remember, Max," I responded. "That day was one of mutual
conquest. That is the prime condition of friendship: mutual conquest and
mutual surrender. But you must have other friends than me. You see I am
not jealous. You must have friends of your own age."

"I now realize why I have hungered all my life," said Max, "though I
have never before known: I longed for friends. Is it not strange that I
should find them among these low-born people? It surely cannot be wrong
for me to live as I do, though father and mother would doubtless deem it
criminal."

"These good burgher folk are making you better and broader and
stronger," I answered. "But there is one thing I want to suggest: you
are devoting too much of your time to the brown-eyed little maid. You
must seek favor with Twonette. She is harmless, and through her you may,
by some freak of fortune, reach the goal of your desires. With the
prestige of your family and the riches of Burgundy, you may become the
most powerful man in the world, save the Pope."