e as if she
were a child. When she did rise she laughed softly and said, turning to
the duchess:--

"'Yolanda' is the name by which Sir Karl knows me. You see, mother, I
was not mistaken in deeming him my friend."

Then she turned suddenly to me, and taking my rough old hand in hers,
lifted it to her lips. That simple act of childish gratitude threw me
into a fever of ecstasy so great that death itself could have had no
terrors for me. He might have come when he chose. I had lived through
that one moment, and even God could not rob me of it.

Yolanda moved away from me and took up the parchment.

"Don't touch it till the ink dries," I cried sharply.

She dropped it as if it were hot, and the duchess came to me, and
graciously offered her hand:--

"I thank you with my whole heart, not only for what you have done, but
for the love you bear the princess. She is the one I love above all
others, and I know she loves me. I love those who love her. As the
French say, '_Les amies de mes amies sont mes amies.'_ I am a poor
helpless woman, more to be pitied than the world can believe. I have
only my gratitude to offer you, Sir Karl, but that shall be yours so
long as I live."

"Your Grace's reward is far too great for the small service I have
rendered," I replied, dropping to my knee. I was really beginning to
live in my sixtieth year. I was late in starting, but my zest for life
was none the less, now that I had at last learned its sweetness through
these two gracious women.

When we had grown more composed, Yolanda explained to me her hopes
regarding the French king's answer to the altered missive, and the whole
marvellous possibilities of the letter "t" dawned upon my mind. The
princess bent over the parchment, watching our mighty "t" while the ink
was drying, but the process was too slow for her, so she filled her
cheeks and breathed upon the writing. The color returned to her face
while I watched her, and I felt that committing a forgery was a small
price to pay for witnessing so beautiful a sight. Yolanda's breath soon
dried the ink, and then we examined my work. I had performed wonders.
The keenest eye could not detect the alteration. Yolanda, as usual,
sprang from the deepest purgatory of trouble to the seventh heaven of
joy. She ran about the room, singing, dancing, and laughing, until the
duchess warned her to be quiet. Then she placed her hand over her mouth,
shrugged her shoulders, walked on tiptoe, and spok