"Pray tell me of him. The information
was refused me; at least, it was not given. He is probably of noble
birth, but we have nobles here in Peronne whom we would not ask to our
house. We know nothing of this wandering young Max, save that he is
honest and brave and good to look upon."
"In God's name, uncle, what more would you ask in a man?" cried Yolanda,
stamping her foot. "'Noble, honest, brave, and good to look upon!' Will
not those qualities fit a man for any one's regard and delight any
woman's heart? I tell you I will have my way in this. I tell you I know
his degree. I know who he is and what he is and all about him, though I
don't intend to tell you anything, and would inform you now that it's no
business of yours."
"Did you coax all this information out of him, you little witch?" asked
Castleman, smiling against his will.
"I did not," retorted Yolanda, leaning forward and lifting her chin
defiantly. "I learned it soon after we reached Basel. I discovered it
by--by magic--by sorcery. He will tell you as much."
"By the magic of your eyes and smiles. That's the way you wheedled it
out of him, and that's the way you coax every one to your will," said
Castleman, laughing while Yolanda pouted.
"I never saw a girl make such eyes at a man as you made at this Sir
Max," said Twonette, who was waiting for her blue velvet gown.
"Twonette, you are prettier with your mouth shut. Silence becomes you,"
retorted Yolanda, favoring Twonette with a view of her back.
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