"I would trust a wolf rather than one of these. Come on!" The last address was to his fellows.
Then those who had halted turned and ran in the track of such as were pursuing the wolf.
What Jean del' Peyra had said was true enough. The two men attending him would not dare to commit an act of treachery on the way to Ste. Soure. He and his father were safe till Noémi was restored.
Jean spoke to his father. The old man was silent as he rode; now he roused himself as from a trance to answer Jean.
"What did you say, my son?"
"Father, we must push on at a quicker pace."
"I cannot push on—I want to go to sleep."
"To sleep, father?"
"I am falling from my horse with fatigue. I must get off. I must lie down. I have not had my proper rest."
Jean was dismayed; time was slipping along, the moon describing her arch in heaven; he must reach Le Peuch before daybreak, and now his father asked for a halt. It was true that he had allowed time for resting the horses on the way, but how long would the old man require for his repose? The strain on his nerves, the horror of the darkness and expectation of a lingering death in the vault, had been so great that a reaction had set in, and he was unable to keep his eyes open.