"She is English," remarked Yolanda, "and loves bright colors." "Which is the princess?" I asked of Yolanda, feeling that I also was acting my part admirably. To my surprise she answered promptly:-- "She in blue with a falcon on her shoulder. Am I not right, uncle?" "Yes," responded Castleman. Twonette confirmed the statement. My air-castles fell noiselessly about my head. My dreams vanished like breath from a cold mirror, and the sphinx-like face of my great riddle rose before me in defiance. After the cavalcade had passed I found myself with Yolanda a dozen paces from the others. "Fräulein," I said, "I want to confess I thought you were the Princess Mary of Burgundy." Yolanda laughed softly. "I was sure you had some such absurd notion. I supposed you had seen her, and had believed she was Yolanda, the burgher girl; that mistake has often been made. You may see this princess at the castle, and I warn you not to be deceived. I have the great honor, it is said, to resemble Her Highness as one pea resembles another. I have been told that she has heard of the low-born maiden that dares to have a face like hers, and she doubtless hates me for it, just as I bear her no good-will for the same reason. When two women greatly resemble each other, there is seldom good feeling between them. Each believes the other is stealing something of her personality, and a woman's vanity prompts her to resent it. If you make the mistake with the princess that you made with me, I warn you it will not be so easily corrected." My poor riddle! My stony sphinx! My clinging hallucination! Again I should have it with me, stalking at my side by day, lying by me at night, whirling through my brain at all times, and driving me mad with its eternal question, "Who is Yolanda?" The solution of my riddle may be clear to you as I am telling you the story. At least, you may think it is, since I am trying to conceal nothing from you. I relate this history in the order of its happening, and wish, if possible, to place before you the manner in which this question of Yolanda's identity puzzled me. If you will put yourself in my place, you will at once realize how deeply I was affected by this momentous, unanswered, unanswerable question, "Who is Yolanda?" and you will understand why I could not see the solution, however clear you may believe it to be to yourself.