He slept that night in a little room above the horses, but first he saw the moon rise over Zillenstein, the valley and the mountain, a vast panorama, white and cold.  He did not know what his next step was to be.  He did not know how he was to communicate with Julie, but he had an implicit confidence in the Providence that had guided him so far and so well.

Three days went by and he did not yet find the way, but he saw Julie once more at the window and yet another time walking on the terrace in front of the castle accompanied by Suzanne.  He was walking Pappenheim’s restive horse back and forth and he was not a hundred feet from her, but he knew no sign to make.  The air was cold then, and she was wrapped in the long, dark red cloak that he knew.  A hood also of dark red covered her head, but tiny curls of the marvelous golden hair escaped from it, their glowing color deepening by contrast the pallor of her lovely face.  Again John’s heart, overflowing with pity and love, yearned for her.

The crusader worships that which he seeks.  John had come to the end of his search, but apparently the way of rescue was as hard as ever.  He saw her, but he could not speak to her, and there was no way to let her know that he was near.  Suzanne, dark, grim and powerful, walked a step or two behind her, watching over her with a love that was ready for any sacrifice.  John felt a deep respect for this faithful and taciturn woman of Normandy, and he was devoutly glad that she was there to be a comfort and support to Julie in these trying days.

As John walked the horse up and down, the maid, Ilse, passing on an errand, stopped and spoke to him.

“It’s the French spy and her maid,” she said.  “They allow her to take the air twice a day upon the terrace.  I can’t think that she is merely a spy.  It must be something political, too high for such as you and me to understand.  Perhaps she is a great French lady who is held as a hostage.  Do they do such things in war now, Jean Castel?”

“I think so.”

“Prince Karl sends her flowers this morning.  See, Olga comes with them, but she does not speak French, nor do I. She will not know from whom they come.”

Often the great opportunity appears when it is least expected.  A trifle may open the way and John, quick as lightning, saw and seized his chance.  Throwing the reins of the now quiet horse over a pillar he said: 

“I know French, as I come from Lorraine.  Let me take them.”

Without waiting for her assent he took the flowers from the hand of the willing Olga and walked boldly across the terrace to Julie, who was looking over the valley.  Bending the knee he offered the flowers, saying: 

“Prince Karl sends you these, Mademoiselle Lannes.”

She started a little at the sound of his voice and he continued in a lower tone: 

“Julie, I’ve come across Germany for you.  Make no sign.  I’m here to save you.  I’m a groom in the prince’s stables!”