"Did Sir Max tell you who he is?" asked Castleman, stopping in front of
Yolanda.
"No," she replied, "I will tell you some day how I guessed it. He does
not know that I know, and I would not have you tell him."
"Tell me, Yolanda," demanded Castleman, "what has passed between you and
this Sir Max?"
"Nothing, uncle, save that I know--ah, uncle, there is nothing. God pity
me, there can be nothing. Whatever his great, true heart feels may be
known to me as surely as if he had spoken a thousand vows, but he would
not of his own accord so much as touch my hand or speak his love. He
knows that one in his station may not mate with a burgher girl. He
treats me as a true knight should treat a woman, and if he feels pain
because of the gulf between us, he would not bring a like pain to me. He
is a strong, noble man, Uncle Castleman, and we must save him."
"If I knew where to begin, I would try at once," said Castleman, "but I
do not know, and I cannot think of--"
"I have a plan," interrupted Yolanda, "that will set the matter going.
Consult my Lord d'Hymbercourt; he is a friend of Sir Karl's; he may help
us. Tell him of the trouble at the bridge, but say that Twonette, not
I, was there. If Lord d'Hymbercourt cannot help us, I'll try another way
if I die for it."
Castleman found Hymbercourt and told him the whole story, substituting
Twonette for Yolanda.
"It is the work of that accursed Basso," said Hymbercourt, stroking his
beard. "No villany is too black for him and his minions to do.
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