We were all nearly exhausted,
and our poor mules staggered along the streets hardly able to carry
their burdens another step. Two had fallen a half-league outside of
Metz; and three others fell with their loads within the city gates.
Castleman had determined to stop with a merchant friend, and after what
seemed a long journey from the gates we halted at the merchant's house.
Our host left us in his parlor while he went to arrange for breakfast.
When he had gone Castleman turned to me:--
"You and Sir Max will, if you please, find good lodging at the Great
Tun. My friend will send a man in advance to bespeak your comfort."
Max and I rose to leave, and Yolanda offered him her hand, saying:--
"It may be that we are to part here at Metz, but I will send for you
soon and will see you before we leave, and--and--" She could not speak
further; tears were in her eyes and her voice. It was not so easy after
all to be happy and brave.
"You will not fail to send for me?" asked Max, clinging to her hand.
"I will not fail," she answered, looking up timidly and instantly
dropping her eyes. "Of that you have better assurance than you will
ever know."
Castleman followed us to the street door and handed me a purse of gold.
"I have expected to part from you here," he said, "and it may be so; but
I fear I shall need your services still further. My mules are unfit to
travel at present; they may never be fit to use; surely not within a
fortnight.
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