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She ran about the room, singing, dancing, and laughing, until the duchess warned her to be quiet. Then she placed her hand over her mouth, shrugged her shoulders, walked on tiptoe, and spoke only in whispers. Margaret smiled affectionately at Yolanda's childish antics and said: "I think the conspirators should disperse. I hope, Sir Karl, that I may soon meet you in due form.
I longed ardently for Yolanda to come out of her skin, and my heart leaped with joy at the early prospect. I was right in my surmise. Yolanda's sweet face, radiant with smiles and soft with dimples, was pressed against the window-pane watching for us when we crossed the moat bridge at Castleman's door. "To see her face again is like coming back to heaven; isn't it, Karl?" said Max.
We rode silently but joyfully. Twonette slowly recovered from her fright, and the pink crept back to her cheeks. The pink had not left Yolanda's cheeks, nor had her nerves been disturbed by the adventures of the morning. Max tried hard to suppress his exuberance of spirit, and Yolanda laved him in the sunshine of her smiles. Within three hours we were safely housed at a village by the Rhine.
Her laughter soon became nervous, and that change in a womanly woman is apt to be the forerunner of tears. They soon came to moisten Yolanda's eyes, but she kept herself well in hand and said: "It has been a very long time, Sir Max, since last I saw you." "A hard, cruel time for me, Fräulein. Your hot-headed duke gives strange license to his murderous courtiers," answered Max.
She was always pleased to see Max, and never failed to show her pleasure in laughter more or less; but Max's presence could hardly account for her high merriment and the satisfaction she seemed to feel, as if a great victory had been gained. My sense of utter defeat had nothing but Yolanda's peculiar conduct to comfort it.
If you win the lady who gave you the ring, you will be happy. I do not jest." "You do. You mock me," cried Max. "I tell you, Yolanda, there is in all the world no woman for me save save one upon whom I may not think." Yolanda's face grew radiant, though tears moistened her eyes.
But the elaborate scheme designed and executed by this girl, with the help of the Castlemans and myself, all of whom Max had no reason to distrust, would have deceived any man. Max, though simple and confiding where he trusted, judging others' good faith by his own, was shrewd for his years, and this plan of Yolanda's had to be faultless, as it really was, to mislead him.
Castleman's words concerning Yolanda's residence under his roof came back and convinced me that my absurd theory concerning her identity was the dream of a madman. "She happened to be near the bridge?" I asked, with significant emphasis. "Perhaps I should not have used the word 'happened," returned Max. "I thought as much. What did she have to say for herself, Max?"
The stone walls were draped with silk tapestry, and a jewelled lamp was pendant from the vaulted ceiling. This was Yolanda's bedroom, and truly it was a resting-place worthy of the richest princess in Christendom. I felt that I was in the holy of holies. I found difficulty in believing that the childlike Yolanda could be so important a personage in the politics of Europe.
The voice that we had heard was unquestionably Yolanda's, but by what strange power it was enabled to penetrate our rock-ribbed prison and give tongues to the cold stones I could not guess, though I could not stop trying. Here was another riddle set by this marvellous girl for my solving. This riddle, however, helped to solve the first, and confirmed my belief that Yolanda was Mary of Burgundy.
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