resisted. There was a slight Walloon accent in her French and German (we
all spoke both languages) that gave to her voice an exquisite cadence. I
spoke to her in Walloonish, and she was so pleased that she seemed to
nestle toward me. In the midst of an animated conversation she suddenly
became silent, and I saw her watching Max's hand. I thought she was
looking at his ring. It was the one that Mary of Burgundy had given him.



CHAPTER III

YOLANDA THE SORCERESS

Several days passed, during which we saw the Castlemans frequently. One
evening after supper, when we were all sitting in the parlor, Yolanda
enticed Max to an adjoining room, on the excuse of showing him an
ancient piece of tapestry. When it had been examined, she seated herself
on a window bench and indicated a chair for Max near by. Among much that
was said I quote the following from memory, as Max told me afterward:--

"So you are from Italy, Sir Max?" queried Yolanda, stealing a glance at
his ring.

"Yes," returned Max.

"From what part, may I ask?" continued the girl, with a slight
inclination of her head to one side and a flash from beneath the
preposterously long lashes toward his hand.

"From--from Rome," stammered Max, halting at even so small a lie.