"Yes," Barbara owned; "I remember quite well now. But let us hurry—it is a long way off yet. We have plenty of time." She spoke consolingly, for Jean's face was blanched and she saw he was trembling.
"But, mademoiselle, you do not understand. Did you not hear them telling us also that the tide advances so rapidly that it catches the quickest horse? Oh, I wish we had told some one of this journey—that some one had seen us. They would have warned us. We should have been safe."
It was then for the first time that the thought of danger entered Barbara's head, and she took her companion's hand.
"Let us run, then. Quick!" she said. "We are not such a very long way off."
Jean hesitated only a moment, his eyes, as if fascinated, still on the water; then he turned his face towards the Mont, and sped over the sand more fleetly than Barbara would have believed possible to him—so fleetly, indeed, that he began to leave the girl, who was swift of foot, behind.
She glanced over her shoulder at the sea, which certainly was drawing in very rapidly, licking over the sand greedily, then forward at St. Michel, and fell to a walk. She knew she could not run the whole distance for it was not easy going on the sand, especially when an eye had always to be kept un the guiding footprints.
"She glanced over her shoulder at the sea."
It was some little time before Jean really realised she was not close behind him; then he stopped running and waited for her.