a turn in the road hid
them, and then he resumed his own ascent, slow now, because he had been
climbing all day, and he wished to conserve his strength. The night was
coming fast, and, if it had not been for the smooth-paved road over
which he was walking, he might have fancied himself in a primeval
wilderness. The sun was sinking in a sea of red light and peaks and
ridges were outlined against it, clear and sharp. Old and thickly
inhabited Europe melted away, and the young crusader stood alone and
solitary among the mountains.

The road led around a cliff, and far across a valley on the other side
he saw Zillenstein, that nest from which the Auerspergs had first ruled
and raided. The red light of the setting sun fell upon it, magnifying
every battlement and tower, and making them all glow with color. Vast as
it was, it seemed even vaster in the red light and in the fire of John's
own imagination.

His mind was filled with history and old romance, and it made him think
of Valhalla. Here certainly was the dusk of the gods. Auersperg was one
of the last representatives of the old order that troubled Europe so
much in its going, for to John, a keen and intense lover of freedom and
of the career open to all the talents, the present war was in its main
feature a death struggle between autocracy and democracy.

He stared at the gigantic ramparts of Zillenstein, as long as the sun
endured. He would have given much then to have had a powerful pair of
glasses, but no horse-buying peasant could carry such equipment without
arousing suspicion.

The day sank into the night and the last tower of Zillenstein was hid by
the dusk. Just before going, and, when all the red light had faded, the
castle showed huge, black and sinister. But John's soul was not cast
down by it. Uncommon situations bred uncommon feelings and impulses. His
imaginative mind still retained the impression that all the signs and
omens were in his favor, and that the prayers of the righteous availed.

He came out of his dreams, and began to think of his night's lodging.
The air was turning cold on the mountain and an unpleasant wind was
trying to strike through his clothing, but he still carried his pair of
blankets, and he had become hardened to all kinds of weather. He had a
good supply, too, of the inevitable bread and sausage, and there was
water for the taking.

He turned from the road and walked through a wood higher up the side of
the mountain, having