At last, one beautiful evening early in May, he arrived. Max and I were sitting at our window watching the river, when the little company rode up to the door of the merchant's shop. With Castleman were two young women hardly more than girls. One of them was a pink and white young beauty, rather tall and somewhat stout. Her face, complexion, and hair were exquisite, but there was little animation in her expression. The other girl had features less regular, perhaps, but she was infinitely more attractive. She was small, but beautiful in form; and she sprang from her horse with the grace of a kitten. Her face was not so white as her companion's, but its color was entrancing. Her expression was animated, and her great brown eyes danced like twinkling stars on a clear, moonless night.

The young women entered the house, and we saw nothing more of them for several days.

When we met Castleman, he gladly engaged our services to Peronne, having heard from Franz of our adventures in the Black Forest. We left the terms to him, and he suggested a compensation far greater than we should have asked. The sum we received from Franz, together with that which we should get from Castleman, would place us beyond want for a year to come. Surely luck was with us.

After Castleman's arrival our meals were served in our room, and we saw little of him or of Franz for a week or more. Twice I saw Castleman ride out with the young women, and after that I haunted the front door of the house. One bright afternoon I met them as they were about to dismount. Castleman was an old man and quite stout, so I helped him from his horse. He then turned to the fair girl of pink and white, saying:--

"Antoinette, daughter, this is Sir Karl de Pitti, who will accompany us to Peronne."

I made my bow and a.s.sisted Fraulein Antoinette to the ground. The other young lady sprang nimbly from her saddle without a.s.sistance and waited, as I thought, to be presented. Castleman did not offer to present her, and she ran to the house, followed by serene Antoinette. I concluded that the smaller girl was Fraulein Castleman's maid. I knew that great familiarity between mistress and servant was usual among the burgher cla.s.s.

The smaller girl was certainly attractive, but I did not care for her acquaintance. Antoinette was the one in whose eyes I hoped to find favor, first for myself and then for Max. By her help I hoped Max might be brought to meet the Princess of Burgundy when we should reach Peronne. I had little doubt of Max's success in pleasing Antoinette; I was not at all anxious that he should please the smaller maid. There was a saucy glance in her dark eyes, and a tremulous little smile constantly playing about her red, bedimpled mouth, that boded trouble to a susceptible masculine heart. Max, with all his simplicity, though not susceptible, had about him an impetuosity when his interest was aroused of which I had learned to stand in wholesome dread. I was jealous of any woman who might disturb his dreams of Mary of Burgundy, and this little maid was surely attractive enough to turn any man's head her way if she so desired.

Later in the afternoon I saw Fraulein Antoinette in the shop looking at silks and laces. Hoping to improve the opportunity, I approached her, and was received with a serene and gracious smile. Near Antoinette were the saucy brown eyes and the bedimpled mouth. Truly they were exquisitely beautiful in combination, and, old as I was, I could not keep my eyes from them. The eyes and dimples came quickly to Antoinette, who presented me to her "Cousin Fraulein Yolanda Castleman." Fraulein Yolanda bowed with a grace one would not expect to find in a burgher girl, and said with the condescension of a princess:--

"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 Fraulein Yolanda Castleman or remain silent, so I asked,--

"Do you reside in Basel, Fraulein?"

"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 p.r.o.nounced 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 Fraulein 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, Fraulein," 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 Fraulein Antoinette. The dimples again ignored the warning and waited for my answer.

"We have no home at present save the broad earth, Fraulein," 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."

"Fraulein," 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."

The girl's face had been slightly clouded, but when I spoke lovingly of the Walloons, the dimples again played around her mouth and a smile brightened her eyes.

"I also am a Walloon," she answered; "and your friend? He surely is not Italian: he is too fair."

"The Lombards are fair," I answered, "and the Guelphs, you know, are of Lombardy. You may have heard of the Houses of Guelph and of Pitti."

"I have often heard of them," she answered; then, after a short silence,--"I fear I have asked too many questions." A gentle, apologetic smile lighted her face and won me instantly. I liked her as much as I admired her. I knew that she wanted me to speak of Max, so to please her I continued, even against my inclination:--

"My young friend, Sir Maximilian du Guelph, wanted to see the world. We are very poor, Fraulein, and if we would travel, we must make our way as we go. We have just come from Ulm and Cannstadt, pa.s.sing through the Black Forest. Sir Max saved the life of our host, and in so doing was grievously wounded. Good Master Franz rewarded us far beyond our deserts, and for the time being we think we are rich."

"The name Maximilian is not Italian," observed Yolanda. "It has an Austrian sound."

"That is true," I responded. "My name, Karl, is German. Few names nowadays keep to their own country. Your name, Yolanda, for example, is Italian."

"Is that true?" she answered inquiringly, taking up a piece of lace. I saw that the interview was closing. After a moment's hesitation Yolanda turned quickly to me and said:--

"You and your friend may sup with us this evening in the dining room of our hostess. We take supper at five."

The invitation was given with all the condescension of a n.o.ble lady.

Twonette ventured:--

"What will father say, Yolanda?"

"I can guess what uncle will say, but we will give him his say and take our own way. Nonsense, Twonette, if we are to journey to Peronne with these gentlemen, our acquaintance with them cannot begin too soon. Come, Sir Karl, and--and bring your young friend, Sir Maximilian."

It was clear to my mind that, without my young friend, Sir Maximilian, I should not have had the invitation. Yolanda then turned to Franz and his silks, and I, who had always thought myself of some importance, was dismissed by a burgher girl. I soothed my vanity with the thought that beauty has its own prerogatives.

Without being little, Yolanda was small; without n.o.bility, she had the _haute_ mien. But over and above all she had a sweet charm of manner, a saucy gentleness, and a kindly grace that made her irresistible. When she smiled, one felt like thanking G.o.d for the benediction.

That evening at five o'clock Max and I supped with Frau Franz. The good frau and her husband sat at either end of the table, Castleman, his daughter, and Yolanda occupied one side, while I sat by Max opposite them. If Castleman had offered objection to the arrangement, he had been silenced.

I was especially anxious that Max should devote himself to Twonette, but, as I had expected, Yolanda's attractions were far too great to be resisted. There was a slight Walloon accent in her French and German (we all spoke both languages) that gave to her voice an exquisite cadence. I spoke to her in Walloonish, and she was so pleased that she seemed to nestle toward me. In the midst of an animated conversation she suddenly became silent, and I saw her watching Max's hand. I thought she was looking at his ring. It was the one that Mary of Burgundy had given him.

CHAPTER III

YOLANDA THE SORCERESS

Several days pa.s.sed, during which we saw the Castlemans frequently. One evening after supper, when we were all sitting in the parlor, Yolanda enticed Max to an adjoining room, on the excuse of showing him an ancient piece of tapestry. When it had been examined, she seated herself on a window bench and indicated a chair for Max near by. Among much that was said I quote the following from memory, as Max told me afterward:--

"So you are from Italy, Sir Max?" queried Yolanda, stealing a glance at his ring.