John took off his cap, saluted and despite the fierce beating of his heart stood calmly before him.
"What does this mean ?" demanded the prince.
John was saved a reply by young Pappenheim, who came up running.
"It was my fault, Your Highness," he said.

"We met him in the road coming to the castle, where he said he wished to be employed as a hostler.

I told him to prove his skill by riding my horse, which hitherto has tolerated no one but myself on his back.

He rode him like a Cossack, and here he is! The fault, sir, was mine, and I crave the pardon of Your Highness, but this man has proved himself a horseman." The prince combed his great forked beard with his fingers, and looked at the young peasant with a contemplative eye.

John surmised that Pappenheim stood well with him, and would be forgiven.
"The test was, perhaps, severe," he said, "but the young man seems to have endured it well.