So, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I refused to
be convinced that Yolanda was not Mademoiselle de Burgundy. I loved the
thought so dearly that I could not and would not part with it. That
night, while I lay pondering over the riddle, I determined to do no more
guessing, and let the Fates solve it for me. They might give me the
answer soon if I would "give it up."
The next evening we went to Castleman's house, but we did not see
Yolanda. Frau Kate said she was indisposed, and we ate supper without
her. It was a dull meal,--so much does a good appetite wait upon good
company,--and for the first time I realized fully the marvellous quality
of this girl's magic spell. Max, of course, was disappointed, and we
walked back to The Mitre in silence.
CHAPTER XIII
A BATTLE IN MID AIR
A day or two after the supper of the wren pie, Max bought from a pedler
a gray falcon most beautifully marked, with a scarlet head and neck, and
we sent our squires to Hymbercourt, asking him to solicit from the
duke's seneschal, my Lord de Vergy, permission to strike a heron on the
marshes. The favor was easily obtained, and we went forth that afternoon
to try the new hawk.
The hours passed quickly. The hawk was perfectly trained, and as fierce
as a mountain wildcat. Its combats in mid air were most exciting. It
would attack its prey and drive it back to a point nearly over our
heads. There it waged the battle of death. It had killed three herons,
all of which had fallen at our feet, and we were returning home when a
fourth rose from the marsh.
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