at you refer concerning yourself," I explained. "All
I know about you is that you are Fraeulein Castleman, and a very charming
person, whom I would have for my friend, if that be possible. I spoke
but jestingly. I have often doubted that you are a burgher maiden, but
there my knowledge ceases; and I am willing that it should so remain
till you see fit to enlighten me."

"There is little knowledge in doubt," said Yolanda, with a nervous
laugh, "though a doubt usually precedes wisdom."

Although I was looking at my horse's ears, I could see the light of her
eyes as she watched me inquiringly. After a long pause she stroked her
horse's mane with her whip, and said, musingly:--

"A man should seek to know only the languages, philosophy, and other
useful learning. Useless knowledge has cost many a man his head."

After a long pause she turned to me with a broad smile:--

"But it is usually not dangerous so long as it does not lodge in the
tongue."

I replied quickly:--

"Fraeulein, when my tongue makes a fool of me, I pray God I may lose it."

"God save all fools by a like fate," she answered.

I was sure she did not mean to include me in the category of fools.

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. A man's vanity prompts him to be witty; hatred prompts him to
cut his enemy, and his love of truth often prompts him to speak it at
the wrong time. These three motives combined often prompt him to lose
his head. Max and I were on dangerous ground, and one untimely error
might make it perilous.

We travelled rapidly, and near midnight of the second day out of Metz we
reached Cinq Voies on the Somme. The village, consisting of a large inn,
a church, a priest's house, and a farrier's shop, is situate at the
meeting of five roads, from which the hamlet takes its name. One road
led down from Cambrai and Ghent in the north, one from Liege in the
northeast, and the one over which we had travelled from Metz came out of
the southeast. Two roads led westward to Peronne. One followed the right
bank of the Somme, passed Peronne, and thence on to Amiens. Another road
followed the left bank of the Somme, touched Peronne, and thence ran
southwesterly to Paris.

When we reached Cinq Voies on th