He slipped from the horse, as a man, who had been sitting in a camp chair in the shadow of a great pine, rose in surprise, and stood looking at him.  It was Prince Karl of Auersperg himself, in a uniform of gray and silver, his great brown beard forked and spreading out magnificently.  John took off his cap, saluted and despite the fierce beating of his heart stood calmly before him.

“What does this mean?” demanded the prince.

John was saved a reply by young Pappenheim, who came up running.

“It was my fault, Your Highness,” he said.  “We met him in the road coming to the castle, where he said he wished to be employed as a hostler.  I told him to prove his skill by riding my horse, which hitherto has tolerated no one but myself on his back.  He rode him like a Cossack, and here he is!  The fault, sir, was mine, and I crave the pardon of Your Highness, but this man has proved himself a horseman.”

The prince combed his great forked beard with his fingers, and looked at the young peasant with a contemplative eye.  John surmised that Pappenheim stood well with him, and would be forgiven.

“The test was, perhaps, severe,” he said, “but the young man seems to have endured it well.  I might say that in his own little world he has achieved a triumph.  Send him to the stables, and tell Walther, the head groom, to give him work.”

After the one examining glance he no longer looked at John who had now disappeared from his own world.  John had no fear of detection.  He had let his semblance of a young beard grow again, and Prince Karl of Auersperg would not dream of his presence there in the mountains of Austria.

“Thanks, Your Highness,” he said, again bowing respectfully.  A groom took the horse and Pappenheim went with him to the stables, where he recommended him specially to Walther, a stalwart Tyrolean, who was evidently glad to have him, as he was short of help.

“Treat him well.  Walther, because he will be of use,” said Pappenheim.  “He has ridden my own horse and no one but myself has ever done that before.”

The Tyrolean’s eyes gleamed with wonder and approval.

“Then you must know horses,” he said, and put him to work at once in the stables.  John toiled with a will.  All things still moved as he could wish them to go.  The blessings upon his errand that he had received were not without effect.  It was true that he was but a stable boy, but he was within the precincts of the castle of Auersperg, and Julie was but a few hundred yards away.  He recalled an old line or two, from Walter Scott, he thought;

     And he bowed his pride
     To ride a horse-boy in his train.

As he remembered it, the service had a motive somewhat similar to his own, and he was glad to “bow his pride,” because he believed that he would have ample chance to raise it up again.  As he went about his work singing and whistling softly to himself, he cast many a glance up at the huge castle.