“You called to me in my prison in the tower,” said Max.  “You called to me by the name you sometimes use.”

“Ah, that is wonderful,” exclaimed Yolanda.  “I wakened myself night before last calling your name, and telling you not to fear.  I was dreaming that you were in danger, but I also dreamed that you would soon be free.  Can it be possible that the voice of a dreamer can travel to a distance and penetrate stone walls?  You almost make me fear myself by telling me that you heard my call.”

Like most persons, Max loved the mysterious, so he at once became greatly interested.  He would have discussed the subject further had not Yolanda turned to me, saying:—­

“Ah, I have not greeted Sir Karl.”

She gave me her hand, and I would have knelt had she not prevented me by a surprised arching of her eyebrows.  My attempt to salute her on my knee was involuntary, but when I saw the warning expression in her eyes, I quickly recovered myself.  I bowed and she withdrew her hand.

“Let us go to the garden,” she suggested.

The others left the room, but Yolanda held back and detained me by a gesture.

“You would have knelt to me,” she said almost angrily.

“Yes, mademoiselle,” I replied, “the movement was involuntary.”

“I once warned you, Sir Karl, not to try to learn anything concerning me.  I told you that useless knowledge was dangerous.  You have been guessing, and probably are very far wrong in your conclusion.  But whatever your surmises are, don’t let me know them.  Above all, say nothing to Sir Max; I warn you!  Unless you would see no more of me, bear this warning in mind.  Yolanda is a burgher girl.  Treat her accordingly, and impress the fact on Sir Max.  Were I as great as the ill-tempered Princess of Burgundy, whose estates you came to woo, I should still despise adulation.  Bah!  I hate it all,” she continued, stamping her foot.  “I hate princes and princesses, and do not understand how they can endure to have men kneel and grovel before them.  This fine Princess of Burgundy, I am told, looks—­” She paused and then went on:  “I sometimes hate her most of all.  I am a burgher girl, I tell you, and I am proud of it.  I warn you not to make me other.”

“Your warning, my lady, is—­”

“Fraeulein!” interrupted Yolanda, angrily stamping her foot, “or Yolanda—­call me either.  If I give you the privilege, you should value it sufficiently to use it.”

“Yolanda, I will sin no more,” I responded.  Her face broke into a smile, and she took my arm, laughing contentedly.

I walked out to the garden—­Yolanda danced out—­and we sat with the others under the shade of the arbor vines.  Castleman and Max drank sparingly of wine and honey, while I sipped orange water with Yolanda, Twonette, and Frau Kate.

“What do you think of Burgundy, Sir Max?” asked the burgher.

“I like Grote’s inn well,” answered Max.  “I like the castle dungeon ill.  I have seen little else of Burgundy save in our journey down the Somme.  Then I saw nothing but the road on the opposite bank.  Had I tried to see the country I should have failed; the dust-cloud we carried with us was impenetrable.”  He turned to Yolanda, “That was a hard journey for you, Fraeulein.”