The Castlemans, Max, and I made several excursions into the mountains.  Yolanda and Twonette were in ecstasy at the mountain views, which were so vividly in contrast with the lowlands of Burgundy.

“These mountains are beautiful,” said patriotic Yolanda, “but our lowlands raise bread to feed the hungry.”

On one occasion we rode to the Falls of Schaffhausen, and often we were out upon the river.  During these expeditions Yolanda adroitly kept our little party together, and Max could have no private word with her.

I had never been so happy as I was during the fortnight at Basel while Castleman was buying silk.  I was almost a child again; my fifty odd years seemed to fall from me as an eagle sheds his plumes in spring.  We were all happy and merry as a May-day, and our joyousness was woven from the warp and woof of Yolanda’s gentle, laughing nature.  Without her, our life would have been comfortable but commonplace.

During all this time Max pondered in vain upon the remarkable manner in which Yolanda had divined the secret of his ring.  He longed to question her, but she would not be questioned until she was ready to answer.

On a certain morning near the close of our sojourn in Basel, Max, after many elephantine manoeuvres, obtained Yolanda’s promise to walk out with him to a near-by hill in the afternoon.  It was a Sabbath day, and every burgher maiden in Basel that boasted a sweetheart would be abroad with him in the sunshine.  Max could not help feeling that it was most condescending in him, a prince, to walk out with Yolanda, a burgher maiden.  Should any one from Styria meet him, he would certainly sink into the ground, though in a certain way the girl’s reluctance seemed to place the condescension with her.

After dinner, which we all took together that day, she put him off with excuses until drowsy Uncle Castleman had taken himself off for a nap.  Then Yolanda quickly said:—­

“Fetch me my hood, Twonette.  I shall not need a cloak.  I am going to walk out with Sir Max.”

Twonette instantly obeyed, as if she were a tire-woman to a princess, and soon returned wearing her own hood and carrying Yolanda’s.

“Ah, but you are not to come with us,” said Yolanda.  She was ready to give Max the opportunity he desired, and would give it generously.

“But—­but what will father say?” asked Twonette, uneasily.

“We shall learn what he says when we return.  No need to worry about that now,” answered Yolanda.  Twonette took off her hood.

Max and Yolanda climbed the hill, and, after a little demurring on the girl’s part, sat down on a shelving rock at a point where the river view was beautiful.  As usual, Yolanda managed the conversation to suit herself, but after a short time she permitted Max to introduce the subject on which he wished to talk.

“Will you tell me, Fraeulein,” he asked, “how you were enabled to know the history of my ring?  I cannot believe you are what you said—­a sorceress—­a witch.”