The stone walls were draped with silk tapestry, and a jewelled lamp was pendant from the vaulted ceiling.

This was Yolanda's bedroom, and truly it was a resting-place worthy of the richest princess in Christendom.

I felt that I was in the holy of holies.

I found difficulty in believing that the childlike Yolanda could be so important a personage in the politics of Europe.

She seemed almost to belong to me, so much at that time did she lean on my strength.
Out of her sleeping apartment she led me to another and a larger room, lighted by broad windows cut through the inner wall of the castle, which at that point was not more than three or four feet thick.