"Go to your parlor and fetch ink and quill," said Charles, pointing with the folded missive toward Yolanda.
"A page will fetch the quill and ink, my lord," suggested the duchess.
"Go!" cried the duke, turning angrily on the princess.

Yolanda left the room, weeping, and hastened up the long flight of steps to her parlor.
It was the refinement of cruelty in Charles to send Yolanda for the quill with which he was to sign the instrument of her doom.
Still weeping, Yolanda hurried back with the writing materials, but before entering the room she stopped at the door to dry her tears and stay her sobs.

When she entered, she said:-- "There is the quill, father, and there is the ink." She placed them before the duke and stood trembling with one hand on the table.

After a moment she spoke in a voice little above a whisper:--"You will accomplish nothing, my lord, my father, by sending the letter.

I shall die before this marriage can take place.