"Let us mend our pace," said Belhumeur, clapping spurs to his horse, which sprang forward with the greatest velocity.
The hunter followed him, a prey to mortal alarm.
The three horsemen were soon together.
"Woe! woe!" the old man cried, in great agitation, as he approached.
"What is the matter, Nô Eusebio? speak, in the name of Heaven."
"Your mother, Don Rafaël! your mother!"
"Well, speak!—oh, speak!" the young man cried frantically.
"Oh, my God!" said the old man, wringing his hands, "it is too late!"
"Speak, then, in the name of Heaven!—you are killing me."
The old man cast on him a look of utter desolation.