Each believes the other is stealing something of her personality, and a woman's vanity prompts her to resent it.

If you make the mistake with the princess that you made with me, I warn you it will not be so easily corrected." My poor riddle! My stony sphinx! My clinging hallucination! Again I should have it with me, stalking at my side by day, lying by me at night, whirling through my brain at all times, and driving me mad with its eternal question, "Who is Yolanda ?" The solution of my riddle may be clear to you as I am telling you the story.

At least, you may think it is, since I am trying to conceal nothing from you.

I relate this history in the order of its happening, and wish, if possible, to place before you the manner in which this question of Yolanda's identity puzzled me.
If you will put yourself in my place, you will at once realize how deeply I was affected by this momentous, unanswered, unanswerable question, "Who is Yolanda ?" and you will understand why I could not see the solution, however clear you may believe it to be to yourself.
We soon went in to supper and, after the peacock, the pheasants, and the pastries were removed, we were served with a most delicious after-dish in sparkling glass cups.

It was frozen orange-water mixed with wine of Burgundy.