Her words, though not lacking intelligence, were commonplace, and her voice was that of her father's daughter.

Yolanda was a girl; the princess was a woman.

The metamorphosis was complete, and Max's hallucination, I felt sure, would be cured.

The princess's face was not burned on his heart, whatever might be true of Yolanda's.

I can give no stronger testimony to the marvellous quality of the change this girl had wrought in herself than to tell you that even I began to doubt, and wonder if Yolanda had tricked me.