position, his father's subjects, who would one day be his, his father's
throne, on which he would one day sit--stood between him and Yolanda.
They stood between him and the achievement of any desire purely personal
to himself and not conducive to the welfare of his state. He felt that
he did not belong to himself; that his own happiness was never to be
considered. He belonged to his house, his people, and his ancestors.

Max had not only been brought up with that idea as the chief element in
his education, but he had also inherited it from two score generations
of men and women that had learned, believed, and taught the same lesson.
We may by effort efface the marks of our environment, but those we
inherit are bred in the bone. Yolanda was not for Max. He could not
control his heart; it took its inheritance of unbidden passion from a
thousand scores of generations which had lived and died and learned
their lesson centuries before the House of Hapsburg began; but he could
control his lips and his acts.

With Max's growing love for Yolanda came a knightly reverence which was
the very breath of the chivalry that he had sworn to uphold. This spirit
of reverence the girl was quick to observe, and he lost nothing by it in
her esteem. At times I could see that this reverential attitude of Max
almost sobered her spirits; to do so completely would have been as
impossible as to dam the current of a mountain stream.

On the evening of our first day out of Basel we were merrily eating our
suppers in a village where we had halted for the night, when I remarked
that I had met a man, while strolling near the river, who had said that
war was imminent between Burgundy and Switzerland. My remark immediately
caught Yolanda's sharp attention.