og. I have little love
for the French. I speak only from hearsay."

"You will do well to learn to like them," I suggested. "Burgundy itself
will soon be French, if the Princess Mary weds the Dauphin."

By speaking freely of the princess, I hoped Yolanda might believe that,
whatever my surmises were concerning her identity, I did not suspect
that she was Mademoiselle de Burgundy.

Yolanda sighed, but did not answer. Silence fell upon our little party,
and after a long pause I turned to Twonette:--

"I remember that Franz told me at Basel, Fraeulein Twonette, that you and
this famous Princess Mary of Burgundy were friends."

"Yes," answered Twonette, with an effort not to smile, "she has, at
times, honored me with her notice."

"Out of that fact grows Twonette's serene dignity," laughed Yolanda. "On
the strength of this acquaintance she quite lords it over us at times,
and is always reminding me of the many haughty virtues of her friend as
a pattern that I should follow. You see, I am incessantly confronted
with this princess."

I thought it was a pretty piece of acting, though the emphasis of her
dislike for the princess was unmistakably genuine.

"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. "I should like merely to
see her before I leave Burgundy. That is all the favor I ask at her
hands. She is a lady famed throughout all Europe for her beauty and her
gentleness."

"She doesn't merit her fame," responded Yolanda, carefully examining her
hands folded in her lap, and glancing nervously toward Max.

"Do you know Her Highness?" I asked.

"I--I have heard enough of her and have often seen her," she replied.
"She usually rides out with her ladies at this hour. From the upper end
of the garden you may soon see her come through the Postern gate, if you
care to watch."

"I certainly should like to see her," I answered, rapidly losing faith
in my conclusion that Yolanda was the princess.

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