"Pray, come and eat," he said to him; "you must be dying of hunger! Bellinde is in despair because she did not see you go out this morning, and consequently allowed you to take your walk without breaking your fast."
Monsieur d'Alvimar thought it best not to mention his visit to the vicarage and his breakfast there. He dilated upon the rural beauty of the neighborhood, and on the soft, bright autumn morning.
"Yes," said Bois-Doré, "we shall have several days of it, for the sun——"
He was interrupted by a piercing shriek outside the enclosure, and ran as fast as he could to the bridge, whither D'Alvimar had preceded him and Lucilio instinctively followed him.
They saw the Moorish woman on the edge of the moat, holding out her arms in an agony of fear toward her child, whom the huge horse was bearing down stream, and she was apparently on the point of throwing herself in from the elevated point where she stood.
[XV]
This is what had happened.
The little gypsy, proud and overjoyed to be riding such a big rocking-horse all by himself, had cajoled the coachman into allowing him to hold the halter. Honest Squilindre, feeling that he had been turned over to that tiny hand, and excited by the merry little heels drumming against his sides, had ventured too far to the right, missed the ford, and swum under the bridge. The coachman tried to go to his assistance, but Pimante, being more suspicious than his mate, refused to leave the solid ground; and the child, clinging to the mane, was delighted with the adventure.
His mothers shrieks calmed his excitement, however, and he shouted to her, in a tone which Lucilio alone understood:
"Don't be afraid, mother, I am holding on tight."