“Forward!” cried the conductor.
The carriage gave a lurch.
“Oh! pardon me, sir!” exclaimed Madame de Montrevel; “your flask!”
“Keep it, madame,” said Morgan; “although I trust you are sufficiently recovered not to need it.”
But Edouard, snatching the flask from his mother’s hands, flung it out of the window, crying: “Mamma doesn’t receive presents from robbers.”
“The devil!” murmured Morgan, with the first sigh his Companions had ever heard him give. “I think I am right not to ask for my poor Amélie in marriage.” Then, turning to his Companions, he said: “Well, gentlemen, is it finished?”
“Yes,” they answered with one voice.
“Then let us mount and be off. Don’t forget we have to be at the Opera at nine o’clock this evening.”
Springing into his saddle, he was the first to jump the ditch, reach the river, and there unhesitatingly took the ford which the pretended courier had pointed out on Cassini’s map.
When he reached the opposite bank, followed by the other young men, d’Assas said to him: “Say, didn’t your mask falloff?”