Yolanda is very sure of me," I answered.

"Ah, that she is," answered the girl. You see, this was a real case of
billing and cooing between December and May.

A short silence followed, during which Yolanda glanced furtively toward
Max and Twonette.

"You spoke of your grandfather," said I, "and that reminds me that you
promised to tell me the story of the staircase in the wall."

"So I did," answered Yolanda, haltingly. Her attention was at the other
end of the room.

"Do you think Twonette a very pretty girl?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, surprised at the abrupt question. I caught a glimpse
of Yolanda's face and saw that I had made a mistake, so I continued
hastily: "That is--yes--yes, she is pretty, though not beautiful. Her
face, I think, is rather dollish. It is a fine creation in pink and
white, but I fear it lacks animation."

"Now for the stairway in the wall," said Yolanda, settling herself with
the pretty little movements peculiar to her when she was contented. "As
I told you, grandfather built it. Afterward he ceded Peronne to King
Louis, and for many years none of our family ever saw the castle. A few
years ago King Louis ceded it to my father. Father has never lived here,
and has visited Peronne only once in a while, for the purpose of
looking after his affairs on the French border. The castle is very
strong, and, being here on the border at the meeting of the Somme and
the Cologne, it has endured many sieges, but it has never been taken. It
is called 'Peronne La Pucelle.'

"Father's infrequent visits to the castle have been brief, and all who
have ever known of the stairway are dead or have left Burgundy, save the
good people in this house, my mother, my tire-woman, and myself. Three
or four years ago, when I was a child, mother and I, unhappy at Ghent
and an annoyance to father, came here to live in the castle, and--and--I
wonder what Sir Max and Twonette find to talk about--and Twonette and I
became friends. I love Twonette dearly, but she is a sly creature, for
all she is so demure, and she is bolder than you would think, Sir Karl.
These very demure girls are often full of surprises. She has been
sitting there in the shadow with Sir Max for half an hour. That, I say,
would be bold in any girl. Well, to finish about the staircase: my
bedroom, as I told you, was my grandfather's. One day Twonette was
visiting me, and we--we--Sir Max, what in the world are you and Twonette
talking about? We can't