Happiness seemed to radiate from her and to furnish joy for all.
For a stretch of two miles up river from Peronne the roads approached
each other, but, owing to an intervening marsh, they were fully half a
mile apart. We, or at least Yolanda, had apparently forgotten the duke
when, near the hour of eight in the morning, we approached the marsh;
but when we entered the open country we saw, to our consternation, the
duke's cavalcade within one mile of Peronne. Where they had passed us we
did not know, nor did we stop to consider. They were five minutes ahead,
and if we could not enter Peronne in advance of them, it were no worse
had they been a day before us.
Yolanda cast one frightened glance toward the duke's party, and struck
her horse a blow with her whip that sent it bounding forward at a
furious gallop. We reached the river and were crossing as the duke
entered Cambrai Gate--the north entrance to the city. We would enter by
the gate on the south known as the Somme Gate; Cambrai Gate was nearer
the castle.
The duke, I supposed, would go directly to the castle; where Yolanda
would go I could not guess. From outside the Somme Gate we saw the duke
enter Cambrai, but after we had passed under the arch we could not see
him for a time because of intervening houses. The huge, grim pile of
stone known as Peronne Castle loomed ominously on the opposite side of
the small town. Yolanda veiled herself before passing under the gate and
hastened, though without conspicuous speed, toward the castle.
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