My horse, which was on the
point of failing, began, in turn, to overhaul his, while I looked
out with sharpened curiosity for the object of pursuit. I could
see nothing, however, and no one; and had just satisfied myself
that this was one of the droll freaks in which he would sometimes
indulge, and that in a second or two he would turn and laugh at
my discomfiture, when, on a sudden, with a final pull at the
reins, he did turn, and showed me a face flushed with passion and
chagrin.
I was so taken aback that I cried out. "MON DIEU! sire," I
said. "What is it? What is the matter?"
"Matter enough!" he cried, with an oath. And on that, halting
his horse, he looked at me as if he would read my heart. "VENTRE
DE SAINT GRIS!" he said, in a voice that made me tremble, "if I
were sure that there was no mistake, I would--I would never see
your face again!"
I uttered an exclamation.
"Have you not deceived me?" quoth he.
"Oh, sire, I am weary of these suspicions!" I answered,
affecting an indifference I did not feel.
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