She was dark, tall, handsome, a woman of presence and of dignity. She took his hand and descended with much grace.
"I am greatly in your debt, sir," she said.
"Ladies, madame," he replied with a tentative advance of his hand toward his moustache, checked in time by a remembrance of the circumstances, "confer obligations often, but can contract none."
"I wish everybody thought as you do," said she with a deep sigh.
"Shall I mount the box?"
"If you please." He mounted after her, and took the reins. Cracking the whip, he urged on the horses.
"Body of the saints," cried the driver, stirred to emulation, "I 'll come with you!" and he leaped up on to the top of a travelling-trunk that was strapped behind the carriage.
"There is more good in human nature than one is apt to think," observed the Captain.
"If only one knows how to appeal to it," added the lady, sighing again very pathetically.
Somehow, the Captain received the idea that she was in trouble. He felt drawn to her, and not only by the sympathy which her courage and her apparent distress excited; he was conscious of some appeal, something in her which seemed to touch him directly and with a sort of familiarity, although he had certainly never seen her in his life before. He was pondering on this when one of the horses, frightened by the noise and rush of the water, reared up, while the other made a violent effort to turn itself, its comrade, and the carriage round, and head back again for Sasellano. The Captain sprang up, shouted, plied the whip; the driver stood on the trunk and yelled yet more vigorously; her Excellency clutched the rail with her hand. And in they went.