The horsemen had continued their wild course without perceiving the fugitives: one of them, indeed, at the cry uttered by Doña Clara, had made a gesture as if to stop his steed, but doubtless supposing that he had been mistaken, he followed his companions after a moment's hesitation, which was very fortunate for him, as Don Sancho had already drawn a pistol, with the resolution of blowing out his brains.
For some minutes the fugitives remained motionless, anxiously listening to the galloping of the horses, whose sound rapidly retired, and was soon lost in the distance, when it became confounded with the other noises of the night.
Then they breathed again, and Don Sancho put back in his holster the pistol which he had held in his hand up to this moment.
"Hum!" he muttered; "Only the thickness of a bush saved us from being discovered."
"Heaven be thanked!" Doña Clara said; "We are saved!"
"That is to say, my little sister, we are not caught," the young man replied, incapable of maintaining his seriousness for five minutes, however grave circumstances might be.
"They are going at a tremendous pace," the Major-domo now remarked; "we have nothing more to fear from them."
"In that case, let us be off," Don Sancho replied.
"Yes, yes, let us go," Doña Clara murmured.