They probably would never forgive me for making a real live man of their son, but I should have my reward in Max.
To Max, of course, the future was rosy-hued.

Caravans were waiting for our protection, and princes were preparing tournaments for our special behoof.

_We_ want for food to eat or place to lay our heads?
Absurd! Our purses would soon be so heavy they would burden us; we should soon need squires to carry them.

If it were not for our desire to remain incognito, we might presently collect a retinue and travel with herald and banner.

But at the end of all was sweet Mary of Burgundy waiting to be carried off by Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg.
Just what the boy expected to do in Burgundy, I did not know.