His ominous words almost
prostrated me, though again I say I suffered chiefly for Max's sake.
Could I have gained his liberty at the cost of my life, nay, even my
soul, I should have been glad to do it.
But I will not further describe the tortures of my imprisonment. The
greatest of them all was my ignorance of Max's fate. It was a frightful
ordeal, and I wonder that my reason survived it.
CHAPTER X
THE HOUSE UNDER THE WALL
To leave Max and myself in our underground dungeon, imprisoned for an
unknown, uncommitted crime, while I narrate occurrences outside our
prison walls looks like a romancer's trick, but how else I am to go
about telling this history I do not know. Yolanda is quite as important
a personage in this narrative as Max and myself, and I must tell of her
troubles as I learned of them long afterwards.
Castleman reached home ten days or a fortnight after our arrest,
bringing with him his precious silks, velvets, and laces to the last
ell. As he had predicted, they were quadrupled in value, and their
increase made the good burgher a very rich man.
Soon after Castleman reached the House under the Wall, Yolanda came
dancing into the room where he was sitting with good Frau Katherine,
drinking a bottle of rich Burgundy wine well mixed with pepper
and honey.
"Ah, uncle," she cried joyously, "at last you are at home, and I have a
fine kiss for you."
"Thank you, my dear," said Castleman, "you have spoiled my wine.
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