John saw that the woman’s face was very sorrowful, and the boys were grave and thoughtful beyond their years.  He knew that they were under the shadow of the war, and his sympathy drew him to them.

“You have other sons, perhaps,” he said gently, “and they are with the armies?”

“Alas, yes,” she replied.  “I have two others.  One went to the east to fight the Russians and the other was sent to the west to meet the French.  I have not heard from either in three months.  I do not know whether they are alive or dead.  We go into Salzburg tomorrow to get news of them, if we can.”

“I hope they may come back to you,” said John simply.

“And you?  You are not of Austria.”

“No, I came from a land that was French before I was born but which is now German, and under the beneficent rule of the great Kaiser—­Lorraine.”

“You have indeed made a great journey.”

“But it’s to help one who needs help.  I’d go if it took me to the other side of the world.  The errand is sacred.”

“Then I wish you Godspeed upon it.  You are young, and you have a good face.  What you say must be true.  I shall pray for you and the happy end of your search.”

She uttered words rapidly under her breath.  She was a middle-aged and uneducated Austrian woman, but as she prayed and the shadows deepened on the mountains he received an extraordinary impression.  A priest had prayed, too, for his success, and the second prayer could not be a mere coincidence.  It was one of a chain.  His will to succeed was so powerful, and so many others were helping him with the same wish that he could not fail.

CHAPTER X

THE FAIR CAPTIVE

The woman gathered up the remains of the food, crossed herself again before the shrine, and she and her sons prepared to resume the descent of the mountain.

“I thank you for your good wishes,” said John.  “They may go far.”

“And so may yours,” she said.  “Farewell!”

“Farewell!”

He watched them, walking down the slope, until 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.