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I had seen the world and its people in all its phases, and I prided myself on my shrewdness, but without my knowledge of the stairway in the wall, I would have sworn that Yolanda had played a trick on me by leading me to believe that she was the Princess Mary. Even with full knowledge of all the facts, I found myself doubting. It is small cause for wonder, therefore, that Max was deceived.
Again I should have it with me, stalking at my side by day, lying by me at night, whirling through my brain at all times, and driving me mad with its eternal question, "Who is Yolanda?" The solution of my riddle may be clear to you as I am telling you the story. At least, you may think it is, since I am trying to conceal nothing from you.
"If we are to have clear heads to-morrow," I suggested, "we must drink no more wine to-night. The counsel of wine is the advice of the devil." "Right you are, Sir Karl. Only one more goblet. Here's to the health of the bride to be," said Castleman. Yolanda leaned back in her chair beside Twonette, and her face wore a curious combination of smile and pout.
"You frighten me, child," said Margaret. "I tremble in terror at what you propose to do." "I, too, am trembling, mother," sighed Yolanda, "but you must now leave the room. You must know nothing of this great crime." The girl laughed nervously and tried to push her mother from the room. "No, I will remain," said the duchess.
Max spurred his horse to her side, and after a moment Twonette fell back with me. I overheard all that was said between Max and Yolanda, and though I do not pretend to quote accurately, I will give you the substance of their conversation. "I cannot help laughing," she said, suiting the action to the word, "over our tragic parting at Metz. We were separated a whole day!"
But here in Basel the good Franz and his frau, Yolanda, Twonette, fat old Castleman, and myself were all boys and girls together, snatching the joys of life fresh from the soil of mother earth, close to which we lived in rustic simplicity. Since we had left Styria, our life, with all its hardships, had been a delight to Max, but it was also a series of constantly repeated shocks.
Then Yolanda ran from us with a hurried good night, and Max returned with me to the inn. I cannot describe the joy I took from the recurring thought that I was particeps criminis with the Princess of Burgundy in the commission of a crime. At times I wished the crime had been greater and its extenuation far less.
After Yolanda had opened the panel a moment of light revealed to me a flight of stone steps built in the heart of the castle wall, which at that point was sixteen feet thick. When Yolanda closed the panel, we were in total darkness. She took my left hand in her left and with her right arm at my back guided me up the long, dark stairway.
After a long silence she continued: "Two weeks ago! That was a few days after the trouble at the bridge." "What trouble?" asked Castleman. "I'll tell you, uncle, and you, tante. Twonette already knows of it," answered Yolanda. "Less than three weeks ago I was with Sir Max near the moat bridge. It was dark after night " "Yolanda!" exclaimed Castleman, reproachfully.
Twonette followed her example; then our small cavalcade passed out through the gate, and we entered on our long, hard race with the Duke of Burgundy. At dawn Yolanda called me to her side. "Our guide will conduct us to Cinq Voies on the Somme, eight leagues this side of Peronne," she said. "There we shall dismiss him. From Cinq Voies the road is straight to Peronne down the river.
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