While he was thinking about it, the convalescent came, a young officer, trim, slender, in a fine uniform of blue and silver.  It was none other than that same lad, Leopold Kratzek, whom he had saved in the fight at the trench.  In his surprise John came very near to greeting him by name, but luckily he controlled himself in time.

He noticed that Kratzek was almost entirely recovered.  The color in his face was fresh, his walk was firm and elastic, and John was glad of it.  He liked the lad whose life he had saved.  He recalled, too, that his presence there was not strange.  Kratzek was the relative of Auersperg, and it was natural that he should be sent to Zillenstein to recover.

The young Austrian glanced at the new groom, but there was no sign of recognition on his face.

“I have not seen you before,” he said.

“No, sir,” replied John, “I’ve just come today.  I’ve been wandering eastward from Lorraine, where I was born, and the Herr Walther has been kind enough to give me work.”

“You’re the man of whom I heard Pappenheim speak so well.  He has been telling us all how a wandering peasant rode that black devil of his.”

“I am fortunate in understanding horses.”

“Well, you’ve made a friend in Pappenheim.”

John gave him the reins and Kratzek, drawing himself a little stiffly into the saddle, cantered away.  John, although not recognized, felt as if he had met a friend again, and Zillenstein seemed less lonely to him.

He watched Kratzek riding down the mountain until the firs and pines hid him, and then, as he turned to go back to the stables, he found the two maids near him, a little forward, and yet a little shy, but wholly curious about the handsome young stranger.

Bearing in mind that the news of the household, even of a huge castle, filtered most often through women, he smiled back at them and said pleasantly in his new German: 

“Good morning.  May I ask your names?”

One was blond and the other brunette, and the brunette answered: 

“We’re Ilse and Olga, maids of the household of His Highness, Prince Karl of Auersperg.”

“And very pretty maids, too,” said John gallantly, as he took off his cap and bowed.  “When I look at Ilse I think she is the more beautiful, when I look at Olga I think she is the more beautiful, but when I see them together I think they are equally beautiful.”

They giggled and nudged each other.

“You are the man who rode the young count’s horse,” said Ilse, who took the lead in talk as brunettes usually do, “and I hope you will pardon our forwardness in wishing to look at so wonderful a person.”

There was a wicked little glint in her eye, but John only smiled again.

“I was lucky,” he said.

“We saw you,” said Olga.  “We were standing on the edge of the lower terrace when you sprang into the saddle.  We were sure you would be killed.”