“Ah, it is our unknown knight who was so eager to fight Count Calli,” exclaimed the duke.

“And still eager, Your Grace,” answered Max.  He uncovered upon approaching the duke, but after a moment said, “By Your Grace’s leave,” and resumed his cap.  I, of course, remained uncovered.  The duke showed surprise and irritation as he answered:—­

“Since you do not see fit to tell us who you are, you should have the grace to remain uncovered.”

Max glanced quickly at the duke’s face, and removed his cap, as he answered, smiling:—­

“If it pleases Your Grace, I will remain uncovered even though I be the Pope himself.”

The duke saw the humor of the situation and replied:—­

“One who owns so noble a hawk may remain covered in any man’s presence.  Never have I seen so rare a battle in mid air.  The soul of Roland himself must inhabit the bird.”

“Will Your Grace accept the hawk?” Max asked.

“Gladly,” answered the duke, “though I hesitate to deprive you of a bird to which you must be attached.”

“Do not hesitate to give me that pleasure, my lord,” answered Max.  “The bird is yours.  His name is Caesar.  I will send him to the castle this evening.”

“Do not send him,” suggested the duke.  “Double your kindness by bringing him to-morrow at the noon hour, after the morning audience.  We must now follow the princess.  Adieu, messieurs.”

The duke touched his cap, and we bent almost to our horses’ manes.

Charles and Hymbercourt rode forward at a brisk canter, and Max and I followed slowly.  We entered Cambrai Gate three or four minutes after the duke and the princess.

Max, eager to exhibit his hawk to Yolanda, proposed that we ride directly to Castleman’s house.

While we were crossing the Cologne bridge we saw the duke’s party enter the castle by the Postern, and as we turned a corner toward Castleman’s the ladies looked in our direction and the gentlemen lifted their caps.

“Yolanda will be delighted when she sees my hawk,” said Max.

I did not answer, but I thought that Yolanda would not see the bird that evening, since she had just entered the castle with her father.  I was in great glee of spirits; I had at last trapped the young lady.  If she were not at Castleman’s house there could be but one answer to my riddle.  I did not merely believe that I should not find her there; I knew I should not.

Max and I hitched our horses, and when Castleman’s front door opened, lo! there stood Yolanda.  Never in all my life have I taken such a fall.

Somewhat out of breath, Yolanda exclaimed:—­

“Ah, Sir Max and Sir Karl, I saw you coming and ran to give you welcome.”

She was in an ecstasy of glee, strangely out of proportion to the event, and there was a look of triumph in her eyes.

After we entered the house Yolanda’s laughter continued, and if it ceased for a moment it broke out again without a pretext.  She was always pleased to see Max, and never failed to show her pleasure in laughter more or less; but Max’s presence could hardly account for her high merriment and the satisfaction she seemed to feel, as if a great victory had been gained.  My sense of utter defeat had nothing but Yolanda’s peculiar conduct to comfort it.