"They will not take me alive, be assured," said the marquis.

"Adieu, then," replied she, sobbing; "may Heaven preserve you!"

He bestrode the balustrade, spread himself out upon it, and fell heavily
on the dungheap. The young girl saw him run to the shed, hastily detach
a horse, pass behind the stable wall, spur his horse in both flanks,
tear across the kitchen garden, drive his horse against the hurdle,
knock it down, clear it, and reach the highroad across the fields.

The poor girl remained at the end of the gallery, fixing her eyes on the
sleeping sentry, and ready to disappear at the slightest movement. The
noise made by spurs on the pavement and by the horse at the end of the
courtyard had half awakened him. He rose, and suspecting some surprise,
ran to the shed. His horse was no longer there; the marquis, in his
haste to escape, had taken the first which came to hand, and this was
the soldier's. Then the soldier gave the alarm; his comrades woke up.
They ran to the prisoner's room, and found it empty. The provost came
from his bed in a dazed condition. The prisoner had escaped.

Then the young girl, pretending to have been roused by the noise,
hindered the preparations by mislaying the saddlery, impeding the
horsemen instead of helping them; nevertheless, after a quarter of an
hour, all the party were galloping along the road. The provost swore
like a pagan. The best horses led the way, and the sentinel, who rode
the marquis's, and who had a greater interest in catching the prisoner,
far outstripped his companions; he was followed by the sergeant, equally
well mounted, and as the broken fence showed the line he had taken,
after some minutes they were in view of him, but at a great distance.