I was disconcerted by his agility. How could he make a fool of me that way? And what a strange idea, that of running between my legs!
In spite of the suddenness of the adventure, just as quickly as he made me fall, I got on my legs again, dazed and astonished. Here is a lunatic let loose—a madman who will ruin me! “Oh! Nicolas, my boy, you are done for, done for! There is not the shadow of a doubt about it. Would it not be better to take French leave than chase the fugitive? What good can it do now? Ah! But Emma and the secret! Oh, damn it all! Let’s try and catch him!” and I am after the Unknown.
I hope he won’t go near the gray buildings. No, thank goodness, he is taking the opposite direction! None the less, anybody can see us.
The Deserter goes gamboling along in high spirits, and plunges in the wood. Thank heaven, the creature is no longer barking, and that is always something. Is that somebody? No, it is a statue. I must gain on him as soon as possible. If he only takes the wrong turn, we shall be spotted, and it is all up with me. How cheerful he seems, the brute! Curse him! If he goes on in this line, we shall be round the Park, and the chase will pass under the front of the gray buildings—under the very windows of Lerne.
A blessing on the trees which still hide us. Quick.... That drawing-room door which I have left open! Quick! Quick....
But the fellow did not know he was being chased. He did not look behind him. His bare feet were hurting him and keeping him back. I am gaining on him....
He has stopped and is sniffing the breeze; now he is off again; but I have got nearer. He has jumped into the bushes on the left, towards the cliff—so do I. I am only ten yards off, now. He dashes through the brambles without heeding their thorns. I follow in his wake. The branches are lashing at him, and the thorns are hurting him. He is moaning. Well, why does not he thrust them aside? He could easily avoid their clutches. The cliffs are not far away. Now we are making straight for them. On my honor! My quarry seems to know perfectly well where it is going. I see his back now and again. I must track him by the crackling of the branches.
At last I see his narrow head again, against the rocky path. Silently I glide up. Another second, and I shall be upon him, but an unexpected action of his makes me pause at the edge of the clear space which encircles me, and of which the cliff forms one side.
He is on his knees, scratching furiously at the soil. The task tortures his nails, so that he whines as he did a moment ago amongst the thorns of the hawthorn and the bramble.
The earth flies from behind him up to me; his rigid hands working with force and rapid motion. He digs away, groaning with pain, then, ever and anon, plunges his nose into the hole as deeply as he can, snorts, shaking his head, and resumes his task.