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Considering all the facts, I was forced to this conclusion: If the Princess Mary had met the duke at the Postern, Yolanda was not the Princess Mary. The next day I reconnoitred the premises, and again reached the conclusion that Yolanda could not have met the duke inside the Postern unless she were a witch with wings that could fly thither over the castle walls; ergo, she was not the princess.
"The duke has graciously invited us to the castle," I said, "and I hope to have the honor of seeing the princess." When I spoke of the duke's invitation, I at once caught Yolanda's attention. "You will not meet the princess if you go to the castle," said Yolanda. "She is an ill-natured person, I am told, and is far from gracious to strangers." "I do not hope for such an honor," I replied.
Strange thoughts and speculations had of late been swarming in my mind until they had almost taken the form of a refrain, "Who is Yolanda?" Though the question repeated itself constantly by day and by night, I received no whisper of an answer. We travelled slowly, and it was not until the second day after our conflict with the Black Riders that we found ourselves near Strasburg.
Yolanda then turned to Franz and his silks, and I, who had always thought myself of some importance, was dismissed by a burgher girl. I soothed my vanity with the thought that beauty has its own prerogatives. Without being little, Yolanda was small; without nobility, she had the haute mien.
When we reached the footbridge, Yolanda and Twonette, without a word of farewell, urged their horses across, and, springing from their saddles, hurriedly entered the house. Max and I turned our horses' heads, and, as we were leaving the footbridge, saw the duke's cavalcade enter the Postern, which was perhaps three hundred yards back and north of the strip on which stood the House under the Wall.
They cannot have passed." "One cannot help believing," said Yolanda, musingly, "that there are men who command the elements. One would almost say they make the rain to fall or to cease, the wind to rise or to drop, to suit their purposes, and the dust to lie quietly beneath their horses' feet. I pray God we may soon know, else I shall surely die of suspense."
Then I thought of Yolanda's words when she told me that she resembled the princess as one pea resembles another. The girl trembled, and even in the dim light I could see the gleam of anger in her eyes. I was endeavoring to frame a suitable apology when she spoke again: "Fräulein! Yolanda! Sir, your courtesy is scant to give me these names.
During the foregoing conversation we had been travelling at a six-mile canter. The day was warm, and I suggested breathing the horses in the shade of the forest. "I believe we are approaching the river," I said, "and we should rest the horses before taking a dash over the open road." Yolanda assented in a manner she seemed to have taken command of the party and we halted under the trees.
"I have told you what I know and also what I suspect. You can make whatever use of the knowledge you like. Yolanda Romanelli is a handsome woman as you will see for yourself if you meet her," he added in a strange reflective voice. "That means going down to Naples," I remarked. "Yes, go there. Be watchful, and you will discover something in progress which will interest you. But be careful.
Even dear old mother is compelled to suppress her love for me. Often she has pressed me to her breast only to thrust me away at the approach of footsteps. By the way, Karl," continued Max, while preparing for bed, "Yolanda one day at Basel jestingly called me 'Little Max." "The devil she did," I exclaimed, unable to restrain my words.
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