It may be that I have surmised somewhat of your quest.

No, say nothing! I would not know more, but a far greater power than mine will help you in it." They parted at the crossroad and John felt as if he left an old friend.
When he looked back he saw the priest on a little hill gazing after him, and he felt again as if the good wish that would count was coming on a wave of air.

Then his own road dipped into a valley and at nightfall he came to a village which had a little inn, humble but neat and clean.
Here he procured a razor and shaved the stubble from his face.

He no longer had a fear of meeting anyone whom he might know, save possibly Weber, and Weber was a friend.
John's frank face and cheerful manner again made friends for him.

The stout innkeeper and his stout wife favored him with the food, and hearing that he had come from Metz they wanted to know all the gossip, which he told them as far as he knew.