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This, I admit, was cruel indifference to Yolanda's peace of mind or pain of heart, if Max should win her love and desert her. Because of a faint though dazzling ray of hope, I encouraged Max after this to visit the bridge over the moat, dangerous though it was; and each night I received an account of his doings. Usually the account was brief and pointless.
But Yolanda's sweet face was pinched by weariness, and Twonette was sound asleep. Our horses, I feared, might fail, and leave us hopelessly in the lurch. Therefore, I gave the command to offsaddle, and we halted at the inn for the night.
At places the roads hugged the Somme, separated only by its width perhaps two hundred yards. These would be our danger points. I did not know them, and Yolanda's knowledge of the road was imperfect. Soon after leaving Cinq Voies, the road on the right bank the one taken by the duke gained a mile over the road on the left by cutting across a great bend in the river around which we had to travel.
She seemed almost to belong to me, so much at that time did she lean on my strength. Out of her sleeping apartment she led me to another and a larger room, lighted by broad windows cut through the inner wall of the castle, which at that point was not more than three or four feet thick. This was Yolanda's parlor. The floor, like that of the bedroom, was covered with a Damascus rug.
The loving old tante could not hold out. She, too, was weeping, and she added her supplications to Yolanda's. "Do what she asks, father only this once," said Frau Kate. "Only this once," pleaded Yolanda, turning her tear-moistened eyes upon the helpless burgher. "I suppose I must surrender," exclaimed Castleman, rising from his chair.
I wondered if in all the world there was another burgher maiden so great a fool as to lift her eyes to a mighty lord, or to think that he could lower his eyes to her with true intent." At that point in the conversation I felt that the seal upon Max's lips would not stand another attack. It was sure to melt; so I rode to Yolanda's side and interrupted the interesting colloquy.
Max was, of course, aglow with pleasure at Yolanda's praise, but he bore his honors meekly. He did not look upon his tremendous feat of arms as of much importance. Fearing the return of the Schwartreiter with reënforcements, we lost no time in resuming our journey, Max and Yolanda quickly finished their dinner, but Castleman, Twonette, and myself did not care to eat.
Max told me the sorrowful little story of the day, and I did not comment on it. I simply led him in another direction. "Fräulein Yolanda's words have given me food for thought," I said.
Disaster to Louis had once followed supplication to Saint Hubert, and the king hoped that the worthy saint might prove equally unpropitious for Charles. Yolanda's wonderful "t" was certainly the most stupendous single letter ever quilled. Here were the first-fruits of it.
Her attention was at the other end of the room. "Do you think Twonette a very pretty girl?" she asked. "Yes," I answered, surprised at the abrupt question. I caught a glimpse of Yolanda's face and saw that I had made a mistake, so I continued hastily: "That is yes yes, she is pretty, though not beautiful. Her face, I think, is rather dollish.
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