We went down into the inn yard. At that moment two horsemen arrived. They seemed exhausted, and their horses were white with lather.
Sperver, who was a great lover of horses, exclaimed in surprise, "What beautiful animals! They are Wallachians; fine and swift as deer. Come, make haste and throw a blanket over them, my lad," he continued, addressing the hostler, "or they may take cold!"
The travellers, enveloped in white astrakhan greatcoats, passed close to us just as were putting foot in the stirrup. I could only distinguish the long brown moustache of one, and his dark eyes that were singularly bright. They entered the inn. The groom released our bridles and wished us a safe journey. We set off at a gallop.
Sperver rode a pure Mecklenberg, and I was mounted on a spirited horse of Ardennes; we fairly flew over the snow. In ten minutes we had left the outskirts of Tübingen behind us. It was beginning to clear up. All trace of our road had become obliterated by the considerable fall of snow. Our only companions were the ravens of the Black Forest, spreading their great hollow wings above the drifts, lighting for an instant here and there, and crying in discordant notes, "Misery! Misery! Misery!" Gideon, buried in his coat of wild-cat skin and fur cap, galloped on ahead. Suddenly he turned in the saddle and called, "Hey, Gaston! This is what they call a fine winter's morning."
"So it is; but a bit severe."
"I like the clear cold weather; it makes you tingle. If old Parson Toby had the courage to start out in such weather, he would never feel his rheumatism again."
I smiled as well as my stiff cheeks would let me. After an hour of this furious pace Sperver slowed down and let me catch up with him. "Gaston," he said in a serious tone, "you ought to know the circumstances of the master's illness."
"I was just thinking of that."
"The more so, as a great number of doctors have already visited the Count."
"Indeed."