But, again, how to do it!
To the left of him, and still farther yet to the left of where the battalions marched after wheeling, there was a stream, a branch of Le Gardon; in summer a swift-flowing river beneath whose gliding waters the reeds bent gracefully; now half frozen and seemingly without current. If he could cross that, there was on the other side a wide open plain, on which for centuries peasant landlords had been endeavouring to cultivate grapevines, to redeem from the marshy soil that was so common in the south some of the thousands of useless acres which abounded. And across that plain, dotted here and there by countless poles on which no vine had ever grown in man's memory, and on which many sheep had browsed upon the short grass salted by the spray (brought in from the Mediterranean on the wings of the Circius) until the Cévenoles had descended and raided them, he might make his way, might cut off by a short détour that advancing force, get before it to where the ascent began, be the first to reach the mountains, the home of the outcasts.
Only he might be seen. And then--then--though the heavily accoutred dragoons would undoubtedly not be able to leap the stream and chase him, the balls from their musketoons and fusils would perhaps reach him; one alone out of the number sent hurtling after him might reach its mark. And that would be enough.
Yet all the same it should be done.
The horse he rode was a strong black, handsome creature, its nostrils red and fiery, its eyes possessed of that backward glance which tells the horseman ere he mounts what he is about to bestride, its legs as thin and agile as a cat's. Well, he would see. Now for the stream, fifteen feet across if an inch. Then he found the animal knew what was meant even as his knee pressed beneath the holster, even as his wrist turned inward to draw tighter the rein and as he sat down firmly in the saddle. There was a rush upon the short, crisp grass--crisp both from the salt of the distant sea and from the night frost--a quiver from the body beneath him, a loosened rein now, a flight as of an arrow, as smooth, too, and as swift. Then the animal's feet were upon the other side; the rivulet was skimmed as though by a swallow. Over and away, the black steed bounding like a ball beneath him.
"Thank God!" he said, "thank God!" And, ere he settled into the saddle again, patted the firm, iron-sinewed neck beneath his hand.
Off through vine poles, over another and a smaller rivulet unseen by him for the moment, yet clear as day to the keen eyes of the noble creature that bore him; off now parallel with the dragoons, across the plain--parallel with the dragoons so dangerously near! And with over all, both them and him, a cloudless sky and a full bright moon.
Then, next, a shout from that advancing force, a hoarse clatter that all know and recognise who have ever heard firelocks wrested quickly from saddle-rests, white smoke curling on the night air, spits of flame from twenty different spots near together, puffs of bullets past his face, puffs such as the droning beetle makes as it flies by us; a numbing shock against the saddle-flap, yet on, on, on! The horse uninjured and still going fleet as the deer, or even fleeter still, because of fear and nervousness. But still on, and followed by a dropping fire that ceased almost directly. The musketoons were useless by this time; they were out of range and he was ahead of the others. Nothing could stop him now, the danger was past. Nothing, unless the horse reeled in its stride, was wounded. Yet that he knew was not so, or else that swift, even motion below him would have ceased ere this. "Heaven be praised! Where is she?"
The night wind blew more piercingly as he felt the earth rising beneath the steed. Far up he saw more and more plainly the burning lights that burned near false bridges and declivities, to fall down which meant death and destruction. The air was nipping even to those two whose bodies were heated by their last hour's motion together. The ascent had begun. The horse breathed more heavily now, threw out great snorting gasps from mouth and nostrils, yet hardly halted, or only so far as to change from canter to trot and from trot to walk. But still went on up, until at last one of the red flambeaux on the hilltops was winking and flickering close by.
He was near Urbaine now. Another hour and she would be in his arms.