the water. By the time he scrambled out his horse had got some little
way off. He himself was wet and muddy, and his face bleeding with
scratches, and he felt sure that it was useless to try and catch it; and
to complete his vexation, he saw Ernanton going down a cross-road which
he judged to be a short cut.

He climbed up the banks of the river, but now could see neither Ernanton
nor his own horse. But while he stood there, full of sinister thoughts
toward Ernanton, he saw him reappear from the cross-road, leading the
runaway horse, which he had made a detour to catch. At this sight St.
Maline was full of joy and even of gratitude; but gradually his face
clouded again as he thought of the superiority of Ernanton over himself,
for he knew that in the same situation he should not even have thought
of acting in a similar manner.

He stammered out thanks, to which Ernanton paid no attention, then
furiously seized the reins of his horse and mounted again. They rode on
silently till about half-past two, when they saw a man walking with a
dog by his side. Ernanton passed him; but St. Maline, hoping to be more
clever, rode up to him and said, "Traveler, do you expect something?"

The man looked at him. Certainly his aspect was not agreeable. His face
still bore marks of anger, and the mud half dried on his clothes and the
blood on his cheeks, and his hand extended more in menace than
interrogation, all seemed very sinister to the traveler.

"If I expect something," said he, "it is not some one; and if I expect
some one, it is not you."

"You are impolite," said St. Maline, giving way to the anger that he had