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Updated: May 28, 2025
Max's words did not alarm me; he was "chained to a throne." He would not fail me if the hour of good fortune should come. "Your thoughts of another woman will not stand in your way," I said. "Experience is more necessary in dealing with women than in any other of life's affairs, and this episode with Yolanda is what you need to prepare you for for what I pray you may have to do."
Margaret rose, walked over to the table, and took up the quill. She trembled so violently that she could not control her hand. "No, mother, you shall not touch it," cried Yolanda, snatching the parchment from the countess and holding it behind her. "If I would let you, you could not make the alteration; see, your hand trembles! You would blot the parchment and spoil all this fine plan of mine.
The Castlemans did not offer to move, but Yolanda, springing to her feet, said, "Come," and led the way. The upper end of the garden, as I have told you, was on the banks of the Cologne at a point where it flowed into the castle moat. The castle wall, sixty feet high at that point, bordered the west side of the garden. The moat curved along the right side, and the river flowed past the upper end.
The princess was soon to become the wife of the Dauphin. If Yolanda were not the princess, there was still good reason why we should abandon her at Metz. She was dangerously attractive and was gaining too great a hold on Max.
The windows were closed by glass of crystal purity, and the furniture was richer than any I had seen in the emperor's palace. Yolanda led me to a table, pointed to a chair for me, and drew up one for herself. At that moment a lady entered, whom Yolanda ran to meet. The princess took the lady's hand and led her to me: "Sir Karl, this is my mother.
She spoke in deep earnest and looked eagerly up to his face. "She was beautiful of feature," answered Max. "Her eyes and her hair were dark as yours are. She was short of stature, I have been told." Yolanda laughed merrily: "I declare, Sir Max, you were in love with a lady you had never seen. It was her estate you loved." "No, no," said Max, earnestly. "I ardently desired "
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.
"Fräulein!" exclaimed the girl, lifting her head and looking a very queen in miniature. "Fräulein! Do you know, sir, to whom you speak?" "I beg your pardon, most gracious princess," I replied. "Did you not command me to address you as Fräulein or Yolanda?" "My name, sir, is not Yolanda. You have made a sad mistake," said the princess, drawing herself up to her full height.
This conversation revealed to me two facts: first, I learned that by some means possibly the ring Max wore this girl, Yolanda, whoever she might be, knew Max. Second, I discovered in myself a dangerous propensity to talk, and of all sure roads to ruin the tongue is the surest.
"If you won't talk to me, I'll go back to the arbor." She turned to the bird: "We are willing, Caesar, aren't we if he can go." Max laughed and started toward the arbor. "Tell him to come back, Caesar. Tell him to come back," exclaimed Yolanda. "I take no orders from a bird," declared Max, with pretended seriousness. Then she turned toward him and her face softened.
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