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 nobility, 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 God 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 passed, 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.
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