on lose you."

Max turned from the window, saying:--"Yes, we must go, or we shall be
late."

"Does the princess dine with you?" asked Yolanda.

"I do not know, Fraeulein," answered Max. Thereupon Yolanda left the room
pouting, and we took our departure, having promised to return to
Castleman's after dinner.

We went at once to the castle; and thirty minutes after leaving
Castleman's we were in the small parlor or talking room of Duchess
Margaret, where the famous letter to the king of France had been signed
by Duke Charles. When we entered we saw the duchess and the princess
sitting upon the divan. The duke was in his great oak chair, and
Hymbercourt and two other gentlemen were standing near by. I made
obeisance to Charles on bended knee. He rose to receive Max, and, after
a slight hesitation, offered his hand, saying:--

"You are welcome, my Lord Count."

A year had passed since I had heard Max addressed as "my lord," and the
words sounded strange to my ears. I turned quickly toward the princess,
expecting to see a sparkle of mirth in her eyes, but Yolanda's ever
present smile was wholly lacking. The countenance of the princess was
calm, immovable, and expressionless as a mirror. I could hardly believe
that it was the radiant, bedimpled, pouting face I had just seen at
Castleman's, and for the first time in all my experience I realized that
I was face to face with a dual personality. The transformation was so
complete that I might easily have been duped had I not known beyond
peradventure the identity of Yolanda and Mary.

After the duke had kindly saluted Max, His Grace presented us to the
ladies. When the princess rose to receive us, she seemed at least half a
head taller than Yolanda. Her hair was hidden, and her face seemed
fuller. These changes were probably wrought by her head-dress, which
towered in two great curved horns twelve inches high. She wore a long,
flowing gown that trailed two yards behind her, and this added to her
apparent height. Max had seen Yolanda only in the short skirts of a
burgher girl's costume.

When Max rose, after kneeling before the princess, he gazed into her
eyes, but the glance he received in return was calm and cold. Yolanda
was rich, red wine, hot and strong; the princess was cold, clear water.
The one was exhilarating, at times intoxicating; the other was chilling.
The face of the princess, though beautiful, was touched with disdain.
Every attitude was one of dignity an