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 and hauteur.  Her words, though not lacking intelligence, were commonplace, and her voice was that of her father’s daughter.  Yolanda was a girl; the princess was a woman.  The metamorphosis was complete, and Max’s hallucination, I felt sure, would be cured.  The princess’s face was not burned on his heart, whatever might be true of Yolanda’s.  I can give no stronger testimony to the marvellous quality of the change this girl had wrought in herself than to tell you that even I began to doubt, and wonder if Yolanda had tricked me.  The effect on Max was instantaneous.  After looking into the princess’s face, he said:—­

“I wish to thank Your Highness for saving my life.  I surely had been killed but for your timely help.”

The situation bordered on the ridiculous.

“Do not thank me, my Lord Count,” responded the princess, in cold and measured words.  “I should have done the same for any man in your hard case.  I once saved a yokel in like manner.  Two common men were fighting with staves.  One would have beaten the other to death had I not entered the lists and parted them.  Father feared a similar exhibition on my part and did not wish me to attend your combat.  He says now that I shall go to no more.  I certainly made myself ridiculous.  I enjoy a fair fight, whatever the outcome may be, but I despise murder.  My act was entirely impersonal, Sir Count.”

“On the lists I addressed Your Highness as ‘Yolanda,’” said Max.  “Your resemblance to one whom I know well was so great as to deceive me.”

I was eager to take Max away from the dangerous situation, but I could not.  The duke, the courtiers, and myself had moved several paces from Max and the princess.  I, however, kept my eyes and ears open to what occurred between them.

“Yes,” returned the princess, haughtily, “I remember you so addressed me.  I have heard of the person to whom you refer.  She is, I believe, a niece of one Castleman, a burgher of Peronne.  I know Castleman’s daughter—­a simple creature, with no pretence of being else.  It has been said that—­what do they call her?  Yolanda, I believe—­resembles me in some respects and is quite proud of the distinction.  I am sure I thank no one for the compliment, since she is a low creature, but I accept your apology, my Lord Count.”