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.
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