“Sir Karl, you pleasure me.”

I was not prepared for her manner.  She probably was not Antoinette’s maid.  A pause followed my presentation which might have been meant by the brown-eyed maid as permission to withdraw.  But I was for having further words with Antoinette.  She, however, stepped back from her cousin, and, if I was to remain, I must speak to my lady Fraeulein Yolanda Castleman or remain silent, so I asked,—­

“Do you reside in Basel, Fraeulein?”

“No, no,” she replied, with no touch of bourgeois confusion, “I am a Burgundian.  Uncle Castleman, after promising Twonette” (I spell the name as she pronounced it) “and me for years, has brought us on this long journey into the world.  I am enjoying it more than any one can know, but poor uncle lives in dread of the journey home.  He upbraids himself for having brought us and declares that if he but had us home again, nothing could induce him to start out with such a cargo of merchandise.”

“Well he may be fearful,” I answered.  “Where one’s greatest treasure is, there is his greatest fear, but peace reigns on the road to Burgundy, and I hope your good uncle’s fears are without ground save in his love.”

“I hear you are to accompany us, and of course we shall be safe,” she said, the shadow of a smile playing suspiciously about her mouth and dancing in her eyes.

“Yes, I am to have that great honor,” I replied, bowing very low.  I, too, could be sarcastic.

“Does the—­will the—­the gentleman who is with you accompany us?” asked Fraeulein Yolanda.  So!  These maidens of Burgundy had already seen my handsome Max!  This one would surely be tempting him with her eyes and her irresistible little smile.

“Yolanda!” exclaimed serene Twonette.  Yolanda gave no heed.

“Yes, Fraeulein,” I responded.  “He goes with us.  Do you live in Peronne?”

“Y-e-s,” she replied hesitatingly.  “Where is your home and your friend’s?”

“Yolanda!” again came in tones of mild remonstrance from Fraeulein Antoinette.  The dimples again ignored the warning and waited for my answer.

“We have no home at present save the broad earth, Fraeulein,” I responded.

“You cannot occupy it all,” she retorted, looking roguishly up to me.

“No,” I responded, “we are occupying this part of the earth at present, but we hope soon to occupy Burgundy.”

“Please leave a small patch of that fair land for Twonette and me,” she answered, in mock entreaty.  After a short pause she continued:—­

“It seems easier for you to ask questions than to answer them.”

“Fraeulein,” I responded, “your question is not easily answered.  I was born in Italy.  I lived for many years in the East, and—­”

“I did not ask for your biography,” she said, interrupting me.  I did not notice the interruption, but continued:—­

“I spent six years in your fair land of Burgundy.  My mother was a Walloon.  I dearly love her people, and hope that my home may soon be among them.”