Then we went into the house.
"We hope to see you again for supper to-morrow evening, don't we, uncle ?" said Yolanda, addressing Max and me, and turning to Castleman.
"Yes--yes, to-morrow evening," said the burgher, hesitatingly.
Max accepted the invitation and we made our adieux.
At the bridge over the Cologne we met Hymbercourt returning to his house from the castle.

While we talked, the cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen that we had watched from Castleman's garden cantered up the street.
"You will now see the princess," said Hymbercourt.

"She comes with the duke and the duchess.

They left the castle at five, and have been riding in the moonlight." We stepped to one side of the street as the cavalcade passed, and I asked Hymbercourt to point out the princess.
"She rides between the duke--the tall figure that you may recognize by his long beard--and the page carrying a hooded falcon," he answered.
Surely this evidence should have put my mind at rest concerning my hallucination that Yolanda was Mary of Burgundy; but when we reached the inn and Max told me of his conversation with Yolanda the riddle again sprang up like a jack-in-the-box.

I felt that I was growing weak in mind.