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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"The Hosts of the Air"




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.
His mind was filled with history and old romance, and it made him think
of Valhalla.


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