s permission,
when, giving some touches of his spur to the horse, he set off suddenly
with great rapidity.

Chemerant, surprised for a moment, gazed after the flying Croustillac;
then, not comprehending this strange action on the part of the supposed
duke, he started in pursuit.

Chemerant had been in many wars, and was an excellent rider. His horse,
without being superior to that of Croustillac, being much better managed
and trained, immediately regained the distance the adventurer had
covered. Chemerant closely followed the track of Croustillac, crying,
"My lord, my lord, where are you going?"

Croustillac, seeing himself so closely pursued, urged his horse forward
with all his force.

Very soon the adventurer was obliged to stop short; the strand formed an
elbow in this place, and the Gascon found himself face to face with
enormous blocks of rock leaving only a narrow and dangerous passage.

Chemerant rejoined his companion. "By all the furies! my lord," he
cried, "what gnat has bitten your highness? Why this sudden and furious
gallop?"

The Gascon responded, coolly and boldly, "I am in great haste, sir, to
rejoin my partisans--this poor Mortimer especially, who awaits me with
such lively impatience. And then, in spite of me, I am besieged with
certain vexatious ideas concerning my wife, and I wish to fly from them,
these ideas, to fly from them by any means," said the Gascon, with a
dolorous sigh.

"It appears to me, my lord, that morally and physically you fly from
them with all your might; unfortunately the road forbids your escaping
them any further."

Chemerant called the guide. "At what distance are we from Fort Royal?"
he asked him.

"A league at most, sir."

Chemerant pulled out his watch and said to Croustillac, "if the wind is
good at eleven o'clock, we might be under sail and _en route_ for the
coast of Cornwall, where glory awaits you, my lord."

"I hope so, sir, without which it would be absurd in me to go there. But
apropos of our enterprise, it seems to be a bad beginning to inaugurate
it with a murder."

"What do you mean, your highness?"

"I should see with pain the shooting of Colonel Rutler. I am
superstitious, sir; this death seems to me a bad omen. The crime was one
entirely personal to me; I then formally demand from you his pardon."

"Your highness, his crime was flagrant, and----"

"But, sir, the crime has not been committed. I insist that the colonel
shall not be shot."