ent, as a general
confession of the inaccuracy of his views regarding foreigners, was by
no means astonished when he saw Nino appear with a woman in his arms.
Together they seated her on one of the mules, and ran beside her, for
there was no time for Nino to mount. They had to pass the door, and
through all its oaken thickness they could hear the curses and
imprecations of someone inside, and the wood and iron shook with
repeated blows and kicks. The quick-witted muleteer saw the bundle
lying where Nino had tossed it, and he picked it up as he ran.

Both Nino and Hedwig recognised Benoni's voice, but neither spoke as
they hurried up the street into the bright moonlight, she riding and
Nino running as he led the other beast at a sharp trot. In five
minutes they were out of the little town, and Nino, looking back,
could see that the broad white way behind them was clear of all
pursuers. Then he himself mounted, and the countryman trotted by his
side.

Nino brought his mule close to Hedwig's. She was an accomplished
horsewoman, and had no difficulty in accommodating herself to the
rough country saddle. Their hands met, and the mules, long accustomed
to each other's company, moved so evenly that the gentle bond was not
broken. But although Hedwig's fingers twined lovingly with his, and
she often turned and looked at him from beneath her hanging veil, she
was silent for a long time. Nino respected her mood, half guessing
what she felt, and no sound was heard save an occasional grunt from
the countryman as he urged the beasts, and the regular clatter of the
hoofs on the stony road.

To tell the truth, Nino was overwhelmed with anxiety; for his quick
wits had told him that Benoni, infuriated by the check he had
received, would lose no time in remounting the stairs, saddling a
horse, and following them. If only they could reach the steeper part
of the ravine they could bid defiance to any horse that ever galloped,
for Benoni must inevitably come to grief if he attempted a pursuit
into the desolate Serra. He saw that Hedwig had not apprehended the
danger, when once the baron was stopped by the door, conceiving in
her heart the impression that he was a prisoner in his own trap.
Nevertheless, they urged the beasts onward hotly, if one may use the
word of the long, heavy trot of a mountain mule. The sturdy countryman
never paused or gasped for breath, keeping pace in a steady,
determined fashion.

But they need not have been