completely well of his wound. He handed the young peasant who
was holding his horse half a krone, and then walked briskly into the
castle.

John put the little silver piece in his pocket, after having touched
his cap, and led the horse into the stable. He did not feel humiliated.
He found something humorous in receiving a tip of ten cents from the man
whose life he had saved. He unsaddled the horse, put him in his stall,
rubbed him down, and came forth to receive the unqualified praise of
Walther.

"You, Castel," he said, "you're a fiend for work. I can see that. Most
of my men look upon work as an enemy. They run from it and hide from it.
Now, come you to the kitchen and you shall eat well in reward."

The great kitchen for the servants and retainers, who were many, was in
the basement of the castle and John, his appetite sharp from the day's
work, ate bountifully. The obvious fact that he had already won the
regard of Walther, a man of importance, inspired respect for him, and
once the brunette Ilse, flitting through the kitchen, gave him a glance
of approval.

He slept that night in a little room above the horses, but first he saw
the moon rise over Zillenstein, the valley and the mountain, a vast
panorama, white and cold. He did not know what his next step was to be.
He did not know how he was to communicate with Julie, but he had an
implicit confidence in the Providence that had guided him so far and so
well.

Three days went by and he did not yet find the way, but he saw Julie
once more at the window and yet another time walking on the terrace in
front of the castle accompanied by Suzanne. He was walking Pappenheim's
restive horse back and forth and he was not a hundred feet from her, but
he knew no sign to make. The air was cold then, and she was wrapped in
the long, dark red cloak that he knew. A hood also of dark red covered
her head, but tiny curls of the marvelous golden hair escaped from it,
their glowing color deepening by contrast the pallor of her lovely face.
Again John's heart, overflowing with pity and love, yearned for her.

The crusader worships that which he seeks. John had come to the end of
his search, but apparently the way of rescue was as hard as ever. He saw
her, but he could not speak to her, and there was no way to let her know
that he was near. Suzanne, dark, grim and powerful, walked a step or two
behind her, watching over her with a love that was ready for any
sacrifice. John felt