"My name, sir, is not Yolanda. You have made a sad mistake," said the princess, drawing herself up to her full height. Then I thought of Yolanda's words when she told me that she resembled the princess as one pea resembles another.
The girl trembled, and even in the dim light I could see the gleam of anger in her eyes. I was endeavoring to frame a suitable apology when she spoke again:--
"Fräulein! Yolanda! Sir, your courtesy is scant to give me these names. I do not know you, and--did I not tell you that if you made this mistake with the princess you would not so easily correct it? That I--you--Blessed Virgin! I have betrayed myself. I knew I should. I knew I could not carry it out."
She covered her face with her hands and began to weep, speaking while she sobbed:--
"My troubles are more than I can bear."
I wished to reassure her at once:--
"Most Gracious Princess--Yolanda--your secret is safe with me. You are as dear to me as if you were my child. You have nestled in my heart and filled it as completely as one human being can fill the heart of another. I would gladly give my poor old life to make you happy. Now if you can make use of me, I am at your service."
"You will not tell Sir Max?" she sobbed.
She was no longer a princess. She was the child Yolanda.
"As I hope for salvation, no, I will not tell Sir Max," I responded.