Here certainly was the dusk of the gods. Auersperg was one
of the last representatives of the old order that troubled Europe so
much in its going, for to John, a keen and intense lover of freedom and
of the career open to all the talents, the present war was in its main
feature a death struggle between autocracy and democracy.
He stared at the gigantic ramparts of Zillenstein, as long as the sun
endured. He would have given much then to have had a powerful pair of
glasses, but no horse-buying peasant could carry such equipment without
arousing suspicion.
The day sank into the night and the last tower of Zillenstein was hid by
the dusk. Just before going, and, when all the red light had faded, the
castle showed huge, black and sinister. But John's soul was not cast
down by it. Uncommon situations bred uncommon feelings and impulses. His
imaginative mind still retained the impression that all the signs and
omens were in his favor, and that the prayers of the righteous availed.
He came out of his dreams, and began to think of his night's lodging.
The air was turning cold on the mountain and an unpleasant wind was
trying to strike through his clothing, but he still carried his pair of
blankets, and he had become hardened to all kinds of weather. He had a
good supply, too, of the inevitable bread and sausage, and there was
water for the taking.
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