Suddenly he turned from a long, fixed look through the trees, and with
a thrill of alarm cried out: "They are coming!"

For a moment he gave the jaded horses the whip. He refused any further
information to the terrified girls; he bit his lip, drew his sword
close to him, and prepared for a struggle; for he had resolved to die
rather than go back a prisoner to Paris.

The pursuers were each moment gaining ground; the costume of the
gendarmes was discernible as they galloped in a cloud of dust along
the plain. The hill was long and heavy before the wearied horses of
Cassier. He saw flight was vain; stratagem must come to his aid in
the emergency.

At this moment he came to a turn in the mountain road where the trees
were thicker and the shade more dense. Like a skilful general in the
critical moment when victory and defeat hang, as it were, on the cast
of a die, he conceived instantaneously the plan of a desperate
expedient. He drew up his horses and bade his trembling children await
his return.

Returning a few paces he secreted himself behind an oak-tree and calmly
awaited the arrival of the Government officers.

Soon the clatter of the galloping horses was heard in the distance.
The wild scream of startled birds resounded through the groves; the
sun seemed to glow in a deeper crimson, the breezes sighed a mournful
cadence through the waving foliage. On the troopers came up the side
of the hill. Cassier had counted them--they are but two; despair has