“Is it because my life is of more value to her than that of any other man?  Oh, tell me, I pray you?”

Another of her rare smiles passed over the grim face of the woman.

“It is a question that Mademoiselle Julie alone can answer,” she said.  “But when she went to her room she wept a little and her tears were not those of sorrow.”

“Oh, then, Suzanne, she is indeed glad that I am here.  Tell her that I came for her, and that I will not go away until she goes too.”

“She is in no great danger here; she is a prisoner, but they treat her as a guest, one of high degree.”

“Auersperg would force her to marry him.”

Suzanne smiled once more, but gravely.

“The prince would marry her,” she said, “and he is not the only one who wishes to do so.  But fear not.  Auersperg cannot force her to marry him.  She is of the same tempered steel as her brother, the great Monsieur Philip.  Were she a man as he is, she would dare as much as he does, and being a woman she will dare in a woman’s way none the less.”

“And the others, Kratzek and Pappenheim, and von Arnheim if he should come, they are young and brave and true!  Might she not, as the only way of escape from the high-handed baron, marry one of them?”

For the fourth time Suzanne smiled.  Never before had she permitted herself that luxury so many times in a month, but there was an odd glint in this latest smile of hers, which gave to her face a rare look of softness.

“Nor will she marry any of them,” she said, “although they are brave and honest and true and love her.  Mademoiselle Julie has her own reasons which she does not tell to me, but I know.  She will not marry Prince Karl of Auersperg.  She will not marry Prince Wilhelm von Arnheim, she will not marry Count Leopold Kratzek, she will not marry Count Maximilien Pappenheim.  Do I not know her well, I who have been with her all her life?”

And once more that smile with the odd glint in it passed over her stern face.  But John in the thickening dusk could not see it, although her low earnest voice carried conviction.

“Tell her for me, will you, Suzanne,” he said, “that I think I can take her from the castle of Zillenstein.  Tell her, too, that I am in little danger in my peasant’s clothes.  I have been face to face with the prince himself and he has shown no sign of recognition, nor has Count Kratzek who was my prisoner once.  Tell her that I will not go.  Tell her that my heart is light because she fears for my safety and, O Suzanne, tell her that I will watch over her the best I can, until all of us escape from this hateful castle.”

“It is much to tell.  How can I remember it alt?”

“Then tell her all you remember.”

“That I promise.  And now it’s time for me to go back.  We cannot risk too much.”

She turned away, but John had another question to ask her.  His heart smote him that he had not thought of Picard.