ned each situation as
she desired. Max made frequent efforts to obtain a private moment with
her, that he might ask a few questions concerning her wonderful
knowledge of his ring--they had been burning him since the night of her
sorcery--but, though she knew quite well his desire to question her, she
gave him no opportunity.

During the time that Castleman was buying his silks, the members of our
little party grew rapidly in friendship. In culture, education, and
refinement, the Castlemans were far above any burghers I had ever known.
Franz and his wife, though good, simple people, were not at all in
Castleman's class. They felt their inferiority, and did not go abroad
with us, though we supped daily with them. Each evening supper was a
little fete followed by a romp of amusement, songs, and childish games
in the frau's great parlor.

The Castlemans, Max, and I made several excursions into the mountains.
Yolanda and Twonette were in ecstasy at the mountain views, which were
so vividly in contrast with the lowlands of Burgundy.

"These mountains are beautiful," said patriotic Yolanda, "but our
lowlands raise bread to feed the hungry."

On one occasion we rode to the Falls of Schaffhausen, and often we were
out upon the river. During these expeditions Yolanda adroitly kept our
little party together, and Max could have no private word with her.

I had never been so happy as I was during the fortnight at Basel while
Castleman was buying silk. I was almost a child again; my fifty odd
years seemed to fall from me as an eagle sheds his plumes in spring. We
were all happy and merry as a May-day, and our joyousness was woven from
the warp and woof of Yolanda's gentle, laughing nature. Without her, our
life would have been comfortable but commonplace.

During all this time Max pondered in vain upon the remarkable manner in
which Yolanda had divined the secret of his ring. He longed to question
her, but she would not be questioned until she was ready to answer.

On a certain morning near the close of our sojourn in Basel, Max, after
many elephantine manoeuvres, obtained Yolanda's promise to walk out with
him to a near-by hill in the afternoon. It was a Sabbath day, and every
burgher maiden in Basel that boasted a sweetheart would be abroad with
him in the sunshine. Max could not help feeling that it was most
condescending in him, a prince, to walk out with Yolanda, a burgher
maiden. Should any one from Styria meet him, he w