at Zillenstein, and he recalled such a man. Second thought
confirmed first thought and his decision was made.

CHAPTER XII

THE HUNTING LODGE

John passed a troubled night. He could not yet see his way to follow
Julie and Suzanne to the hunting lodge in the manner he wished, and the
signs were multiplying that they would soon go. He had no doubt that the
arrival of von Arnheim would hasten their departure. Auersperg at such a
time could not tolerate the attitude of the young prince toward Julie
and he would avail himself of what he considered his feudal rights to
send her somewhere into the dark at the quickest possible moment.

But Providence was working for John. His courage and skill which tempted
fate were winning new points in his great battle. Walther told him a
little after noon that he was to take him into the presence of the
august Prince Karl himself. In some manner he had fallen under the
favorable eye of His Highness who was about to assign him to an
important duty. It was an honor that seldom fell to one so young and
ignorant and he hoped that he would conduct himself in a manner to
reflect credit upon his superior and instructor, Walther.

John gave his faithful promise but he wondered what the prince could
want with him personally and he did not look forward to the interview
with confidence. Perhaps his identity and the nature of his errand had
been discovered, and it was merely an easy method of making him walk
into the lion's jaws, but he could not have refused nor did he wish to
do so. His curiosity was aroused and he was willing to meet Auersperg
face to face and talk with him.

Cap in hand he followed Walther, also cap in hand, into the interior of
the castle. Auersperg sat in a great room overlooking the valley. His
chair stood on a slightly raised portion of the floor, and he was
enthroned like a sovereign. John, following Walther's example, bowed low
before him.

"You may go, Walther," said Auersperg. "I wish to speak alone with this
young man."

The master of the stables withdrew reluctantly, consumed by curiosity,
and the young peasant in his rough brown dress stood alone before the
prince. One seemed the very personification of power and pride, the
other of obscurity and insignificance, and yet so strangely does fate
play with the fortunes of men that the fickle goddess was inclined
toward the peasant in the matter that was nearest to the hearts of both.

John, be it said onc