A horseman came galloping up the hill from the meadow. It was Herr Storting; he waved a greeting to Lieschen as he drew near, but as he drew up his horse beside Egon he exclaimed, in surprise, "Can it be possible, Herr Pigglewitch, that you are riding Soliman?"
"As you see," Egon replied, curtly, his good humour all gone.
"I see, but I do not understand. Why, even the Lieutenant does not venture to take that horse any distance from the castle, he only rides it in the fields just beyond the garden. Pardon my saying so, Fräulein Lieschen, but you have been wrong in exposing Herr Pigglewitch to a danger the extent of which he cannot understand, since he does not know Soliman's tricks and temper."
Before Lieschen could reply, Egon interposed, "Your reproof is administered to the wrong person, Herr Storting. I insisted on riding Soliman precisely because of his tricks and his temper. And now we know each other, Soliman and I, and he is afraid of me, not I of him. You need have no anxiety on my account."
Egon's words by no means satisfied Storting. "You must be a capital rider to have kept your seat upon Soliman until now, but the danger will not be over until the horse is back in his stall. I beg you to return at once, and at all events do not attempt to ride him down into the meadows. The brute shies terribly, when people are about he grows restless, and the least sudden movement, the lifting of a rake, the flutter of one of the women's white kerchiefs, or the merest trifle, will suffice to make him mad with terror. At such times no rider can control him or keep his seat."
But Egon only smiled. "Are you really so unruly, my poor Soliman?" he said, leaning forward and patting the beautiful creature's slender neck. "I could wish you would try your worst, that I might have the opportunity to convince you of a will stronger than your own."
"Foolhardy words," Storting said, sternly. "Again let me beg you to turn back. If you ride down to the meadows you run the risk of having Soliman plunge with you into the Oster. Such a ride would be suicidal."
"Your ugly word does not terrify me," Egon said. "I surely have a right over my own body, my own life. I need take counsel with none, if I choose to end the drama with a bullet in my heart or a wild ride. Come, Soliman, let us measure our strength together, and if you come off conqueror I shall not care; let the waters of the Oster do their worst."
A smart stroke of his riding-whip accompanied his last words. It had a fearful effect upon the fiery animal, who had scarcely yet been brought under his rider's perfect control. Soliman put back his ears and tore down the hill to the Oster meadows.
"My God! what madness!" Storting exclaimed, horror-struck. The colour faded from his sunburned cheek as he gazed after the rider, who was being carried directly towards the spot where the river was deepest and the current strongest. To the inspector the man's fate was sealed. How could the Candidate have dreamed of riding Soliman? It was a miracle that the fellow still kept his seat.