The countenance of the princess was
calm, immovable, and expressionless as a mirror. I could hardly believe
that it was the radiant, bedimpled, pouting face I had just seen at
Castleman's, and for the first time in all my experience I realized that
I was face to face with a dual personality. The transformation was so
complete that I might easily have been duped had I not known beyond
peradventure the identity of Yolanda and Mary.
After the duke had kindly saluted Max, His Grace presented us to the
ladies. When the princess rose to receive us, she seemed at least half a
head taller than Yolanda. Her hair was hidden, and her face seemed
fuller. These changes were probably wrought by her head-dress, which
towered in two great curved horns twelve inches high. She wore a long,
flowing gown that trailed two yards behind her, and this added to her
apparent height. Max had seen Yolanda only in the short skirts of a
burgher girl's costume.
When Max rose, after kneeling before the princess, he gazed into her
eyes, but the glance he received in return was calm and cold. Yolanda
was rich, red wine, hot and strong; the princess was cold, clear water.
The one was exhilarating, at times intoxicating; the other was chilling.
The face of the princess, though beautiful, was touched with disdain.
Every attitude was one of dignity and hauteur. Her words, though not
lacking intelligence, were commonplace, and her voice was that of her
father's daughter. Yolanda was a girl; the princess was a woman.
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