“Move on,” said the physician, “and let me observe these horsemen alone. I would there were some forest at hand. In two hours we may gain the mountains.”
The daughter of Hunniades and the Prince of Athens descended the rising ground. Before them, but at a considerable distance was a broad and rapid river, crossed by a ruinous Roman bridge. The opposite bank of the river was the termination of a narrow plain, which led immediately to the mountains.
“Fair Iduna, you are safe,” said the Prince of Athens.
“Dear Nicæus,” replied his companion, “imagine what I feel.”
“It is too wild a moment to express my gratitude.”
“I trust that Iduna will never express her gratitude to Nicæus,” answered the prince; “it is not, I assure you, a favourite word with him.”
Their companion rejoined them, urging his wearied horse to its utmost speed.
“Nicæus!” he called out, “halt.”
They stopped their willing horses.
“How now! my friend;” said the prince; “you look grave.”