"Load again!" cried Otto.
But at that moment the water from the fish-pond, whose sluices had been thrown wide open by old Paul, came rushing over the dike in such a volume as entirely to submerge the burning bridge and leave the duellists in darkness. Indeed, they were forced to seek safety from the rising flood in precipitate flight.
"To-morrow we'll at it again," called out the cuirassier major.
"I'll be with you," answered the captain of hussars.
What had been a fiery Phlegethon before, now became an inky Styx, likely to delay the pursuers for half a day. Meanwhile the fugitives had only to push on as rapidly as possible. The whole region, however, was aroused, and in the first village they reached they could get no provisions for themselves or fodder for their horses.
"You are deserters and bent on mischief," the people said to them, and they were forced to ride on with their hunger unabated.
Coming to a bridge, they were met by a rude company of rustic militia, armed with scythes.
"Shall we do as we did at the St. Bridget Convent?" the hussars asked their captain.
"No, that is out of the question here," was the reply; "we must avoid a fight with the peasantry."
He well knew that a couple of volleys from their pistols would have cleared the bridge; but he chose instead to make a détour that cost them two hours of precious time, being resolved to avoid all bloodshed until he should reach his own country.