The
taller, who I soon learned was the duchess, hastened down the passage
and through the door leading to her apartments. The smaller I at once
recognized. She was Yolanda.
"Father, you cannot mean to send me into France," she cried, trying to
detain the duke. "Kill me, father, if you will, but do not send me to
that hated land. I shall not survive this marriage a fortnight, and if I
die, Burgundy will go to our cousin of Bourbon."
"Don't hinder me, daughter," returned the duke, impatiently. "Don't you
see we are not alone?"
Yolanda turned in surprise toward me, and the duke said:--
"Go by the right door, Sir Karl. I will be with you at once. I wish to
speak with the duchess."
He hurriedly followed his wife and left me alone with Yolanda.
"Fraeulein, my intrusion was unintentional," I stammered. "I followed the
duke at his request."
"Fraeulein!" exclaimed the girl, lifting her head and looking a very
queen in miniature. "Fraeulein! Do you know, sir, to whom you speak?"
"I beg your pardon, most gracious princess," I replied. "Did you not
command me to address you as Fraeulein or Yolanda?"
"My name, sir, is not Yolanda. You have made a sad mistake," said the
princess, drawing herself up to her full height. Then I thought of
Yolanda's words when she told me that she resembled the princess as one
pea resembles another.
The girl trembled, and even in the dim light I could see the gleam of
anger in her eyes. I was endeavoring to frame a suitable apology when
she spoke again:--
"Fraeulein! Yolanda! Sir, your courtesy is scant to give me these names.
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