“I do not apologize, Your Highness,” answered Max, in tones of equal hauteur.  “You probably do not know the lady of whom you speak.”

The princess seemed to increase by an inch or two in stature as she drew herself up, and answered:—­

“Of course we do not know her.”

“If you knew her, Your Highness would apologize,” retorted Max.

Seeing the angry color mounting to his face, I stepped to his side and joined in the conversation.  Presently dinner was announced, and I rejoiced when we parted from the princess.  Turning our faces toward the ladies, we moved backward from the room, and went with the duke to the dinner hall.

Compared with Castleman’s daily fare, the duke’s dinner was almost unpalatable.  We had coarse beef, coarse boar’s meat, coarse bread,—­not black, but brown.  Frau Kate’s bread was like snow.  The sour wine on the duke’s table set our teeth on edge, though it was served in huge golden goblets studded with rare gems.  At each guest’s plate was a jewelled dagger.  The tablecloth was of rich silk, soiled by numberless stains.  Leeks and garlic were the only vegetables served.

Nothing of importance occurred at the table, but after dinner the duke abruptly offered Max a large sum of gold to accompany him to Switzerland.  Max thanked His Grace and said he would give him an answer soon.  The duke urged an early reply, and Max said:—­

“With Your Grace’s permission we will attend to-morrow’s morning audience, and will make our answer after Your Lordship has risen.”

Charles acquiesced, and we soon left the castle.  The duke, as I have already told you, was very rich.  Hymbercourt once told me that he had two hundred and fifty thousand gold crowns in his coffers at Luxembourg.  That was probably more than the combined treasuries of any two kings in Europe could show.  Max and I were short of money, and the sum that the duke offered seemed enormous.  Neither Max nor his father, Duke Frederick, had ever possessed as much money at one time.

While we were leisurely walking across the courtyard toward the Postern, three ladies and two gentlemen, accompanied by outriders and pages carrying falcons, rode by us and passed out through the Postern.  We followed, and overtook them at the town end of the drawbridge, where they had halted.  When we came up to them, we recognized the duchess and the princess.  The duchess bowed smilingly, but the princess did not speak, though she looked in our direction.

The cavalcade turned to the left, and went up a narrow street toward Cambrai Gate, evidently bound for the marshes.  Max and I walked straight ahead toward the Cologne bridge, intending, as we had promised, to go back to Castleman’s.  Two hundred yards up the street I glanced back, and saw a lady riding through the Postern, back to the castle.  I knew at once that the princess had returned, and I was sure of meeting Yolanda,—­sweet, smiling, tender Yolanda,—­at the dear old House under the Wall.  I did not like the princess; she was cold, haughty, supercilious, and perhaps tinged with her father’s cruelty.  I longed ardently for Yolanda to come out of her skin, and my heart leaped with joy at the early prospect.