when, suddenly, he made another dart
sideways, and perceiving a herd of oxen on the high-road, made straight
towards them.

Here a pretty high fence confronted the hunters, which they were
obliged to take, and which gave both the ladies another opportunity of
showing their agility; both of them successfully cleared it. At that
moment they perceived a horseman coming towards them on the high-road,
whom, owing partly to the high bushes and partly to their attention
being directed elsewhere, they had not observed before.

"'Tis he!"

Flora's face that instant grew redder than ever, while Fanny's turned as
pale as death.

"'Tis he!"

Both of them recognized him at the same time. 'Tis he, the loving
husband of the one, the beloved ideal of the other.

Flora rushed towards him with a cry of joy. "Rudolf! Rudolf!" she cried.

Fanny, in dumb despair, turned her horse's head, and began to gallop
back again.

"Good God!" cried Rudolf, whose face still burned with the kisses of his
loving wife, "that lady's horse has run away with her!"

"That is Madame Karpathy!" cried Flora in alarm; and she whipped up her
horse in the hope of overtaking her friend.

The lady was galloping helter-skelter across the plain. Every one
fancied that her stallion had run away with her. Flora, old Palko, Mike
Kis, and Count Gregory vainly sped after her; they could not get near
her: only Rudolf was beginning to catch her up.

And now the stallion had reached the narrow dyke, and was galloping
along it; on the other side of it, six fathoms in depth, were the waters
of the Berettyo. A single stumble, and all would be over. But now Rudolf
was catching her up, and he was the best horseman of them all. And now
he was level with her. It was the first time in his life that he had
seen this woman. He had no idea that he had met her many and many a
time before, for he had never noticed her. The stallion, with foaming
mouth, rushed on, with the lady clinging to him. Her face was pale and
her bosom heaved. It was just at this moment that the young man came
abreast of her; her flying locks flapped his face: and she had a
hundredfold more reasons now than ever for wishing to die at that
moment. This youth, this ideal of her romantic dreams, was the husband
of her dearest, her noblest, her loveliest friend.

Rudolf was obliged to give up all idea of stopping the maddened steed.
Instead of that, and, just as Fanny fell back half-swooning from her
sad