"Yes, he fell and threw me; but I am all right. Quick, bring your horse on to the grass here, and under this tree," and I led him into the shadow of the tall hedge.
"Have you any traces of them?" he asked impatiently.
"Yes, I have the best news. I have found the Countess Minna. She has escaped from that villain, and I believe that the horseman you can hear coming up the hill now is the man himself coming in pursuit of her."
"Ah!" He drew in his breath. "We are in luck indeed. There is a good light," and he glanced up at the moon, and I heard him swear into his mustache, and mutter, "At last!" Then, after listening a moment, he said: "He is breathing his horse up the hill. He little guesses who's here to give him a welcome. I'll go forward and meet him. I hope to God he has a sword with him. Will you stay here? You can act as second for us both, and see that all is fair, though it would serve the dog right if I were to shoot him down without a chance."
He walked his horse slowly forward on the grass, making no noise, and keeping out of sight in the shadow of the hedge.
I went back to Minna.
The on-coming horseman was now in full sight of us on the slope of the white hill, the moonlight showing up the figures of both horse and rider, as he turned to look behind him, and sat listening intently. The silence was so intense that we seemed to feel it, and even the creak of the saddle leather, as he turned, reached our ears.
Then we saw him face round quickly and dash his heels into his horse's ribs as if to gallop forward; but, at the same instant, he caught sight of Praga, and he checked his horse again almost as he was in the very act of urging it forward. The next moment Praga was at his side.
For a second neither spoke. Then through the still night air we heard the Corsican laugh.
"You're riding late, my lord, the most noble Count von Nauheim," he said in a mocking tone.