"My friend," said the young man to his preceptor, his eyes glowing with ardour and impatience, "we will save these unfortunate people, will we not?"
"I hope so, my child, but the danger will be great; when we pass this stagnant water, we will enter the current of the overflow, and it must be as rapid as a torrent."
"Well, what matters danger, my friend?"
"We must know it to triumph over it, my child. Now, tell me," added David, with emotion, "do you not think that, in thus generously exposing your own life, you will more worthily expiate the dreadful deed you wished to commit, than by seeking a fruitless death in suicide?"
A passionate embrace on the part of Frederick made David see that he was understood.
The cart just at this moment crossed a highway in order to reach the pond in time.
A gendarme, urging his horse to a galop, arrived at full speed.
"Is the overflow still rising?" cried David to the soldier, making a sign to him with his hand to stop.
"The water is rising all the time, sir," replied the gendarme, panting for breath; "the embankments are just broken. There is thirty feet of water in the valley—the route to Pont Brillant is cut off—the only boat that we had for salvage has just capsized with those who manned it. All have perished, and I am hurrying to the castle for more men and boats."
And the soldier plunged his rowels into the horse, which was covered with foam, and galloped away.