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"Did the man run away, Dolt, when we stopped for the drag?"

"Monseigneur, he precipitated himself over the hill-side, head

first, as a person plunges into the river."

"See to it, Gabelle. Go on!"

The half-dozen who were peering at the chain were still among the

wheels, like sheep; the wheels turned so suddenly that they were

lucky to save their skins and bones; they had very little else to

save, or they might not have been so fortunate.

The burst with which the carriage started out of the village and

up the rise beyond, was soon checked by the steepness of the

hill. Gradually, it subsided to a foot pace, swinging and

lumbering upward among the many sweet scents of a summer night.

The postilions, with a thousand gossamer gnats circling about

them in lieu of the Furies, quietly mended the points to the

lashes of their whips; the valet walked by the horses; the

courier was audible, trotting on ahead into the dull distance.