“They are longing for us to come, I am sure!—Go on, you villain, go on!”
“Say rather that they have forgotten all about us.”
“Oh! men like us aren’t so easily forgotten.—Go on, you wretched nag!”
“Look out! you’re whipping him too hard; he’s running away now.”
“Mon Dieu! that’s so; he’s got the bit in his teeth!”
“Hold him in! jerk the reins!”
“I can’t hold him, my friend; I am pulling as hard as I can. Mon Dieu! he’s turning into the fields; we are lost!”
“Oh! don’t be frightened; he’ll stop.—Get down, boy, and see if you can stop him.”
Our groom had already alighted, but he did not follow us, which made me think that he was hurt. Our steed galloped on, across fields and plowed lands and lanes. I took the reins from my companion, who was no longer in a condition to see anything, but trembled in every limb and shouted for help at the top of his voice. To put the finishing touch to our misfortunes, the storm broke with great violence: the clouds burst, the rain fell in torrents, and the wind blew with hurricane force in our faces. Our horse did not stop; I began to apprehend some serious accident; we were on a very steep hillside, and I expected every moment to be overturned with the carriage. Luckily, our frantic animal’s path was blocked by a mass of vines; he stopped short, but in struggling to extricate himself from the labyrinth of branches in which he was entangled he plunged about with such violence that he finally threw us out and fell with us.
“I am dead!” cried Raymond, as he fell. Before making sure of that fact, I tried to cut my way out of my prison, for the front of the cabriolet was blocked by vine poles. I succeeded at last in getting out. I was not hurt, not even a bruise. I thought myself very lucky to escape with nothing worse than a fright. Since it was written that I should not attend Madame de Marsan’s entertainment, I made the best of it and decided to endure as philosophically as possible the further misadventures into which Raymond was sure to lead me. I went to inquire into my companion’s condition. He was groaning pitifully; was he really hurt? If so, that would make our plight decidedly serious. I walked up to Raymond, who had fallen half out of the cabriolet, with his face against the ground. I shook his arm, and succeeded, not without difficulty, in making him raise his head. The rain had already formed pools, and the plowed earth had stuck to Raymond’s face. He told me in a feeble voice that he could hardly see.