Max might yet win this peerless princess, this priceless girl; or, reverse it if you choose, Mary of Burgundy might win this peerless man, and might at the same time attain the unutterable joy of knowing that she had won him for her own sake.
Perhaps her yearning had led her to hope that he might in the end be willing to fling behind him his high estate for the sake of a burgher girl.

Then, when she had brought him to that resolution, what a joy it would be to turn upon him and say: "I am not a burgher girl.

I am Princess Mary of Burgundy, and all these things which you are willing to forego for my sake you may keep, and you may add to them the fair land of Burgundy!" Her high estate and rich domains, now the tokens of her thralldom, would then be her joy, since she could give them to Max.
While these bright hopes were filling my mind, Yolanda was playing well her part.

She, too, evidently meant to tell no lies, though she might be forced to act many.

Her fiery outburst against the Princess of Burgundy astonished Max and almost startled me.