I, however, kept my eyes and ears open to what
occurred between them.
"Yes," returned the princess, haughtily, "I remember you so addressed
me. I have heard of the person to whom you refer. She is, I believe, a
niece of one Castleman, a burgher of Peronne. I know Castleman's
daughter--a simple creature, with no pretence of being else. It has been
said that--what do they call her? Yolanda, I believe--resembles me in
some respects and is quite proud of the distinction. I am sure I thank
no one for the compliment, since she is a low creature, but I accept
your apology, my Lord Count."
"I do not apologize, Your Highness," answered Max, in tones of equal
hauteur. "You probably do not know the lady of whom you speak."
The princess seemed to increase by an inch or two in stature as she drew
herself up, and answered:--
"Of course we do not know her."
"If you knew her, Your Highness would apologize," retorted Max.
Seeing the angry color mounting to his face, I stepped to his side and
joined in the conversation. Presently dinner was announced, and I
rejoiced when we parted from the princess. Turning our faces toward the
ladies, we moved backward from the room, and went with the duke to the
dinner hall.
Compared with Castleman's daily fare, the duke's dinner was almost
unpalatable. We had coarse beef, coarse boar's meat, coarse bread,--not
black, but brown. Frau Kate's bread was like snow. The sour wine on the
duke's table set our teeth on edge, though it was served in huge golden
goblets studded with rare gems.
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