The chains of duty to family, state, and ancestry that bound Max's feet so firmly would be but wisps of straw about Yolanda's slender ankles.

She would have no hesitancy in making her choice, were she free to do so, and states might go hang for all she would care.

Her heart was her state.

Would she ever be able to choose?
Fortune had been kind to us thus far; would she remain our friend?
She is a coquette; but the heart of a coquette, if truly won, is the most steadfast of all.
Twonette brought in the wine and honey; Castleman soon returned and lighted the lamp, and we all sat talking before the small blaze in the fireplace, till the great clock in the middle of the room chimed the hour of ten.

Then Yolanda ran from us with a hurried good night, and Max returned with me to the inn.
* * * * * I cannot describe the joy I took from the recurring thought that I was particeps criminis with the Princess of Burgundy in the commission of a crime.