The brave young baron was nearly
spent--panting, almost sobbing, as he struggled desperately on--feeling
as if his heart would burst at every agonizing throb; but he was indued
with supernatural strength and endurance, and as Isabelle's voice
reached his ear calling, "Help, de Sigognac, help!" he cleared with a
bound the space that separated them, and leaping up to catch the broad
leathern strap that was passed round her and her captor, answered in a
hoarse, shrill tone, "I am here." Clinging to the strap, he ran along
beside the galloping horse--like the grooms that the Romans called
desultores--and strove with all his might to pull the rider down out
of his saddle. He did not dare to use his sword to disable him, as they
struggled together, lest he should wound Isabelle also; and, meantime,
the man on horseback was trying his utmost to shake off his fierce
assailant-unsuccessfully, because he had both hands fully occupied with
his horse and his captive, who was doing all she could to slip from his
grasp, and throw herself into her lover's arms. Loosing his hold on the
rein for a second, the horseman managed to draw a knife from his girdle,
and with one blow severed the strap to which the baron was clinging;
then, driving his spurs into the horse's sides made the frightened
animal spring suddenly forward, while de Sigognac--who was not prepared
for this emergency, and found himself deprived of all support--fell
violently upon his back in the road.
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