I was dreadfully frightened, I must confess; I thought my last hour had come. I shut my eyes as I fell; and, when I felt I was none the worse, I re-opened them; the first thing I saw was the head of M. Picot's dog looking over at me from the place where I had jumped, and where, more mistress of herself than I had been, she had pulled up.
"Diane," I cried, "Diane, here! look, look!"
And, getting up, I pursued my race after my partridge.
I saw M. Picot some distance away, standing up on the top of a rock, his arms raised to the heavens; he thought I had been smashed to atoms. I hadn't even a scratch.
He made such a figure against the landscape as I shall never forget.
I had lost sight of my bird, but I knew in what direction she had fallen, and I set off Diane on her track; she had hardly gone twenty yards before she found the scent, and started on it at a steady trot.
"Let her go," cried M. Picot; "let her go: she sees it again, she sees it."
I took no notice; I ran faster than she did, and before her. Finally chance led me to the partridge, which began to run.
"There it is," I cried to M. Picot,—"there it is! Diane, Diane! see, see, see, see, see!"
Diane saw it; and just in time, for my breath was beginning to fail me. I only had strength left to get to where she held it in her mouth: I pounced upon her, I snatched it from her, I lifted it up by a claw to show it to M. Picot and then I fell down.