'Is the horse hurt?' I muttered as soon as I could speak.

'Not a whit,' Fresnoy answered, chuckling, or I was much
mistaken. 'I am afraid you came off the worse of the two,
captain.'

He exchanged a look with the men on horseback as he spoke, and in
a dull fashion I fancied I saw them smile. One even laughed, and
another turned in his saddle as if to hide his face. I had a
vague general sense that there was some joke on foot in which I
had no part. But I was too much shaken at the moment to be
curious, and gratefully accepted the offer of one, of the men to
fetch me a little water. While he was away the rest stood round
me, the same look of ill-concealed drollery on their faces.
Fresnoy alone talked, speaking volubly of the accident, pouring
out expressions of sympathy and cursing the road, the horse, and
the wintry light until the water came; when, much refreshed by
the draught, I managed to climb to the Cid's saddle and plod
slowly onwards with them.

'A bad beginning,' Fresnoy said presently, stealing a sly glance
at me as we jogged along side by side, Chize half a league before
us, and darkness not far off.

By this time, however, I was myself again, save for a little
humming is the head, and, shrugging my shoulders, I told him so.
'All's well that ends well,' I added. 'Not that it was a
pleasant fall, or that I wish to have such another.'