John now related how they had successfully passed through P. and across the border, telling how, from that point, they had begged their way through to Freiburg in Breisgau as itinerant workmen.  “I had my haversack with me, and Frederick a little bundle; so they believed us,” he went on.  In Freiburg they had been induced to enlist in the Austrian army; he had not been wanted, but Frederick had insisted.  So he was put with the commissariat.  “We stayed over the winter in Freiburg,” he continued, “and we got along pretty well; I did, too, because Frederick often advised me and helped me when I did something wrong.  In the spring we had to march to Hungary, and in the fall the war with the Turks broke out.  I can’t repeat very much about it because I was taken prisoner in the very first encounter and from that time was a Turkish slave for twenty-six years!”

“God in Heaven, but that is terrible!” exclaimed Frau von S.

“Bad enough!  The Turks consider us Christians no better than dogs; the worst of it was that my strength left me with the hard work; I grew older, too, and was still expected to do as in former years.”  He was silent for a moment.  “Yes,” he then said, “it was beyond human strength and human patience, and I was unable to endure it.  From there I got on a Dutch vessel.”

“But how did you get there?” asked the Baron.

“They fished me out of the Bosphorus,” replied John.  The Baron looked at him in astonishment and raised his finger in warning; but John continued.  “On the vessel I did not fare much better.  The scurvy broke out; whoever was not absolutely helpless was compelled to work beyond his strength, and the ship’s tow ruled as severely as the Turkish whip.  At last,” he concluded, “when we arrived in Holland, at Amsterdam, they let me go free because I was useless, and the merchant to whom the ship belonged sympathized with me, too, and wanted to make me his porter.  But,” he shook his head, “I preferred to beg my way along back here.”

“That was foolish enough!” said the Baron.

John sighed deeply.  “Oh, sir, I had to spend my life among Turks and heretics; should I not at least go to rest in a Catholic cemetery?”

The lord of the estate had taken out his purse.  “Here, John, now go and come back soon.  You must tell me the whole story more in detail; today it was a bit confused.  I suppose you are still very tired.”

“Very tired,” replied John; “and”—­he pointed to his forehead—­“my thoughts are at times so curious I cannot exactly tell how things are.”

“I understand,” said the baron; “that is an old story.  Now, go.  Huelsmeyer will probably put you up for another night; come again tomorrow.”

Herr von S. felt the deepest sympathy with the poor chap; by the next day he had decided where to lodge him; he should take his meals in the castle and his clothing could, of course, be provided for too.  “Sir,” said John, “I can still do something; I can make wooden spoons and you can also send me on errands.”