"Twonette! Twonette!" cried Yolanda, pulling at the girl's hand. "I
declare, if you don't resist this growing drowsiness you will go down in
history as the 'Eighth Sleeper,' and will be left snoring on
resurrection morn."
When Twonette had awakened sufficiently to walk, we started from the
arbor to the house. As we passed from beneath the vines, the frowning
wall of the castle and the dark forms of its huge towers, silhouetted in
black against the moon-lit sky, formed a picture of fierce and sombre
gloom not soon to be forgotten.
"The dark, frowning castle reminds one of its terrible lord," said Max,
looking up at the battlements.
"It does, indeed," answered Yolanda, hardly above a whisper. Then we
went into the house.
"We hope to see you again for supper to-morrow evening, don't we,
uncle?" said Yolanda, addressing Max and me, and turning to Castleman.
"Yes--yes, to-morrow evening," said the burgher, hesitatingly.
Max accepted the invitation and we made our adieux.
At the bridge over the Cologne we met Hymbercourt returning to his house
from the castle. While we talked, the cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen
that we had watched from Castleman's garden cantered up the street.
"You will now see the princess," said Hymbercourt. "She comes with the
duke and the duchess. They left the castle at five, and have been riding
in the moonlight."
We stepped to one side of the street as the cavalcade passed, and I
asked Hymbercourt to point out the princess.
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