“Tante Castleman was—­was—­It was fortunate she—­was in—­” She sprang to her feet, exclaiming:  “I’m going to tell Twonette what I think of her boldness in sitting there in the dark with Sir Max.  Her father is not here to do it.”  And that was the last I heard of the stairway in the wall.

Yolanda ran across the room to the bench by the fireplace and stamped her foot angrily before Twonette.

“It—­it is immodest for a girl to sit here in the deep shadow beside a gentleman for hours together.  Shame, Twonette!  Your father is not here to correct you.”

Castleman had left the room.

Twonette laughed, rose hurriedly, and stood by Yolanda in front of Max.  Yolanda, by way of apology, took Twonette’s hand, but after a few words she coolly appropriated her place “in the deep shadow beside a gentleman.”  A princess enjoys many privileges denied to a burgher girl.  When a girl happens to be both, the burgher girl is apt to be influenced by the princess, as the princess is apt to be modified by the life of the burgher girl.  Presently Yolanda said:—­

“Please go, Twonette, and mix a bowl of wine and honey.  Yours is delicious.  Put in a bit of allspice, Twonette, and pepper, beat it well, Twonette, and don’t spare the honey.  Now there’s a good girl.  Go quickly, but don’t hurry back.  Haste, you know, Twonette, makes waste, and you may spoil the wine.”

Twonette laughed and went to mix the wine and honey.  I walked back to the other end of the room, and sat down by a window to watch the night gather without.  I was athrill with the delightful thought that, all unknown to the world, unknown even to himself, Max, through my instrumentality, was wooing Mary of Burgundy within fifty feet of where I sat.  He was not, of course, actively pressing his suit, but all unconsciously he was taking the best course to win her heart forever and ever.  Now, with a propitious trick of fortune, my fantastic dream, conceived in far-off Styria, might yet become a veritable fact.  By what rare trick this consummation might be brought about, I did not know, but fortune had been kind so far, and I felt that her capricious ladyship would not abandon us.

Yolanda turned to Max with a soft laugh of satisfaction, settled her skirts about her, as a pleased woman is apt to do, and said contentedly:—­

“There, now!”

“Fraeulein, you are very kind to me,” said Max.

“Yes—­yes, I am, Sir Max,” she responded, beaming on him.  “Now, tell me what you and Twonette have been talking about.”

“You,” answered Max.

A laugh gurgled in her throat as she asked:—­

“What else?”

“I’ll tell you if you will tell me what you and Sir Karl were saying,” he responded.

“Ah, I see!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands gleefully.  “You were jealous.”

“I admit it,” he answered, so very seriously that one might have thought him in earnest.  “And you, Fraeulein?”