But scarcely had Pierre Raimond reached the summit of the acclivity, than he lost his balance, slipped to the edge of the embankment and disappeared in the river, throwing out his arms and crying aloud for help.
All this occurred in much less time than is required to narrate it.
To strip himself of his cloak, plunge into the Seine, and save from death the unfortunate being who had just been precipitated into its depths, was the first thought of the Prince de Hansfeld, for he it was who in the cold and solitude of a winter's evening took his lone walk on this deserted quay, which, as the reader will recollect, adjoined the Hôtel Lambert.
Weak and feeble, though possessed of a highly nervous frame, Arnold de Hansfeld felt, in the violent excitement of the moment, sufficient strength and energy to enable him, after the most incredible efforts, to grasp the sinking form of Pierre Raimond. The current was running so strong, that during the few seconds it took to effect the unhoped-for preservation of the old engraver, the two persons immersed were swept a considerable distance from the mound, and conveyed, most fortunately, to a level and accessible part of the shore, for the physical powers of M. de Hansfeld were wholly exhausted.
Preserving his habitual coolness amid the danger which threatened him, Pierre Raimond, instead (as is too frequently the case in such untoward circumstances) of paralysing the efforts of his preserver, facilitated the attempts to save him by every means in his power.
When M. de Hansfeld and Pierre Raimond were safely landed, the old engraver had in a manner to change places and become the preserver of him whose courageous act had saved himself from death; for to the factitious strength and feverish excitement which had hitherto sustained the prince succeeded the most perfect prostration, and he sank utterly insensible at the feet of the old man, ere the latter could pour forth the praises and blessings with which his heart was filled.
"In vain did Pierre Raimond shout for help," &c.
Night was fast approaching, and the deepening shades of twilight increased the effect of the thick fog which kept all objects wrapped in its dusky veil: in vain did Pierre Raimond shout aloud for help, his voice was lost amid the mingled roaring of the wind and waters; and had the weather been more propitious, it was a rare circumstance for any foot-passenger to pass those lonely quays after nightfall.
M. de Hansfeld shook with convulsive tremors, and it was but too evident that his slight and fragile frame must have been endowed with an almost superhuman courage to dare a peril its physical powers were so unequal to struggle against.