During the delay caused by this misunderstanding, the good lawyer swore roundly, while Christian, delighted at being free to act at last, rushed upon one of the brigands, the first he found in his path. The latter fled—deceived by the fog, he had not supposed him so near, and Christian pursued him, with shouts of insult and defiance, while he, in his turn, was followed, swiftly and silently, by another of the party. He heard the assassin’s steps, plainly audible on the crisp, hard snow, behind him; and, through the ringing in his ears—for he was in a great rage, and the blood was coursing through his veins at a tremendous rate—it seemed to him that he could hear other steps and other voices approaching from the right and left. He could not doubt that he was surrounded, and, without losing his presence of mind, he rushed after his first assailant with more fury than ever, with the idea that it would not do to turn until he had disposed of him, since he might attack him from behind, while he was facing the others. Besides, he did not lose sight of his resolution to remove the struggle as far as possible from Stollborg.
He descended in this way the steep declivity leading to the lake, whose rapid descent, alone, indicated to him the direction in which he was going, for he could see nothing. But, just as he stepped upon the smooth, hard ice of the lake, there were several reports behind him, balls whistled close to his ear, and the man he was pursuing fell at two steps before him. Either the fugitive had been mistaken for him by his accomplices, or the latter had fired upon them both at random, thinking, perhaps, that their companion deserved to be shot, for having taken flight.
The man who had just been struck was Massarelli; at the moment that Christian strode over him he was uttering a last groan of agony, and he recognized his voice. He ran on, so as to gain time and make the most of his position, while the assassins collected about Massarelli, or, at least, stopped to look at him, so as to see who they had killed. Pausing to listen, he heard these words:
“Let him lie; that is all right!”
What did that mean? Had the assassins mistaken Massarelli for their proposed victim, and were they going to withdraw? or had they recognized their mistake, and would they continue to pursue him? By making rapid zigzags in the ice, he hoped to get rid of them, one by one, and he tried to make out, from their steps and voices, how many he had to contend with. He had, without thinking, kept on the soleless and seamless felt boots which had been lent him in the morning for the hunt, and this afforded him an immense advantage. Perfectly supple, he could move about in them as freely as if his feet were bare; and, besides, they made scarcely any sound upon the ice, while he could hear every step of his companions, who were not so well shod for the occasion.
He listened once more. They were approaching him, but they did not see him, and seemed uncertain. Not ten steps off he heard these brief words:
“Hé! It is I.”
Since they were meeting, unexpectedly, in the fog, they must have got separated. From that moment, nothing would have been easier than to escape them. Christian did not even think of such a thing. He was furious; and he wanted, moreover, to prevent the scoundrels from returning to seek him at Stollborg. He called to them in a loud voice, naming himself, and defying them, drawing back scarcely at all, but tacking about, so as to irritate and draw them asunder. His hope was to come up with one of them without allowing himself to be surrounded by all, and he had his wits about him so completely that he succeeded, before long, in counting them. There were three of them still; Massarelli had made the fourth.
In spite of his astonishing self-possession, Christian was tremendously excited, and, mingling with his other emotions, he was conscious of a wild, fierce delight, like the intoxication of gratified vengeance. So strong was this feeling, that he felt almost disappointed when he heard still other steps behind him, steps as soft as his own, which he at once recognized as those of his companions, who were shod, like himself, in felt boots. He was afraid that the bandits would make their escape without fighting. He ran to meet his friends, and whispered, quickly:
“There they are, three of them; we must take them prisoners! Follow me, and silence!”