"
There was a wicked little glint in her eye, but John only smiled again.
"I was lucky," he said.
"We saw you," said Olga. "We were standing on the edge of the lower
terrace when you sprang into the saddle. We were sure you would be
killed."
"But we were glad you were not," said Ilse. "We were pleased when we saw
you riding the great black horse directly back to the castle. Do you
mean to stay here all the time?"
"Where there is so much beauty and wit I should like to remain," replied
John with increasing gallantry, still holding his cap in his hands, "but
who can tell where he will be a week hence in times like these?"
Again they laughed and nudged each other. Ilse had a shrewd and
observant mind.
"Your German has a French accent," she said.
"I was born in a land that was once French--Lorraine--so my blood is
French by descent, although I am wholly German in loyalty and in
feeling. But I'm not the first person of French blood that you ever saw,
am I?"
He asked the question in a careless tone, but he awaited the answer with
anxiety.
"Oh, no," replied Ilse. "Many people come to the great castle of
Zillenstein. Two Frenchwomen are here now, spies, terrible spies they
say, but I can scarce believe it, at least of the young one,
Mademoiselle Julie, who is so beautiful, and who speaks to us so
gently.
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