He was up again in an instant, and
flying after Isabelle, who was now being borne rapidly away from him,
and whose cries for help came more and more faintly to his ear; but the
moment he had lost made his pursuit hopeless, and he knew that it was
all in vain when he saw her disappear behind the thicket her ravisher
had been aiming for from the first. His heart sank within him, and he
staggered as he still ran feebly on--feeling now the effects of his
superhuman exertions, and fearing at each step that his feet would carry
him no farther. He was soon overtaken by Herode and Scapin, who, alarmed
by the pistol shot, and fearing that something was wrong, had started
in hot pursuit, though the lackey who served them as guide had done all
that he possibly could to hinder them, and in a few faltering words he
told them what had occurred.
"Vallombreuse again!" cried the tyrant, with an oath. "But how the devil
did he get wind of our expedition to the Chateau de Pommereuil? or can
it be possible that it was all a plot from the beginning, and we are
bound on a fool's errand? I really begin to think it must be so. If it
is true, I never saw a better actor in my life than that respectable old
major-domo, confound him! But let us make haste and search this grove
thoroughly; we may find some trace of poor Isabelle; sweet creature that
she is! Rough old tyrant though I be, my heart warms to her, and I love
her more tenderly than I do myself.
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