Burgundy (France) -- History -- Fiction; Marie, Duchess of Burgundy, 1457-1482 -- Fiction
I paused to hear more, but all was silent in the great hall. The words
could have come from no other lips than Yolanda's--Mary's. True, I
reasoned, Yolanda might be one of the ladies of the court, perhaps a
near relative of the duke. Once the horrifying thought that he was her
lover came to my mind, but it fled instantly. There was no evil
in Yolanda.
Max did not hear the voice. I intended to tell him of it when we should
reach the inn, and I thought to tell him also that I believed Yolanda
was the Princess Mary. I changed my mind, however, and again had reason
to be thankful for my silence.
CHAPTER XII
A LIVE WREN PIE
The next day came the invitation to sup at Castleman's, and we were on
hand promptly at the appointed time--four o'clock. Before leaving the
inn I had determined to ask Castleman to satisfy my curiosity concerning
Yolanda. With good reason I felt that it was my duty and my right to
know certainly who she was. She might not be Mary of Burgundy, but she
surely was not a burgher girl, and in some manner she was connected with
the court of Duke Charles.
Max and I were sitting in the long room (it was on the ground floor and
extended across the entire front of the house) with Castleman when Frau
Kate entered followed by Yolanda and Twonette. The frau courtesied, and
gave us welcome. Twonette courtesied and stepped to her father's side.
Yolanda gave Max her hand and lifted it to be kissed. The girl laughed
joyously, and, giving him her other hand, stood looking up into his
face. Her laughter soon became nervous, and that change in a womanly
woman is apt to be the forerunner of tears. They soon came to moisten
Yolanda's eyes, but she kept herself well in hand and said:--
"It has been a very long time, Sir Max, since last I saw you."
"A hard, cruel time for me, Fräulein. Your hot-headed duke gives strange
license to his murderous courtiers," answered Max.
"It has been a hard time for others, too," she responded. "Hard for
uncle, hard for tante, hard for Twonette--very hard for Twonette." She
spoke jestingly, but one might easily see her emotion.
"And you, Fräulein?" he asked smilingly.
"I--I dare not say how hard it has been for me, Little Max. Do you not
see? I fear--I fear I shall--weep--if I try to tell you. I am almost
weeping now. I fear I have grown gray because of it," she answered,
closing with a nervous laugh. Max, too, could hardly speak. She smiled
up into his face, and bending before him stood on tiptoe to bring the
top of her head under his inspection.
"You may see the white hairs if you look carefully," she said.
Max laughed and stooped to examine the great bush of fluffy dark hair.
"I see not one white hair," he said.
"Look closely," she insisted.
He looked closely, and startled us all, including Yolanda, by putting
his lips to the fragrant, silky mass.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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