“What are we doing?” she said. “I cannot hear the hunt any longer, and here is the river in front. We have come too far to the left.” “No, no, Edmee,” I answered, without knowing in the least what I was saying. “Another gallop and we shall be there.” “How red you are!” she said. “But how shall we cross the river?” “Since there is a road, there must be a ford,” I replied. “Come on! come on!” I was filled with an insane desire to go on galloping, I believe my idea was to plunge deeper and deeper into the forest with her; but this idea was wrapped in a haze, and when I tried to pierce it, I was conscious of nothing but a wild throbbing of my breast and temples. Edmee made a gesture of impatience. “These woods are accursed!” she said. “I am always losing my way in them.” No doubt she was thinking of the fatal day when she had been carried far from another hunt and brought to Roche-Mauprat. I thought of it too, and the ideas that came into my mind produced a sort of dizziness. I followed her mechanically towards the river. Suddenly I realized that she was on the other bank. I was filled with rage on seeing that her horse was cleverer and braver than my own. Before I could get the animal to take the ford, which was rather a nasty one, Edmee was a long way ahead of me again. I dug my spurs into its sides till the blood streamed from them. At last, after being nearly thrown several times, I reached the other bank, and, blind with rage, started in pursuit of Edmee. I overtook her, and seizing the mare’s bridle, I exclaimed: “Stop, Edmee, I say! You shall not go any farther.” At the same time I shook the reins so violently that her horse reared. She lost her balance, and, to avoid falling, jumped lightly to the ground between our two animals, at the risk of being hurt. I was on the ground almost as soon as herself. I at once pushed the horses away. Edmee’s, which was very quiet, stopped and began to browse. Mine bolted out of sight. All this was the affair of an instant. I had caught Edmee in my arms; she freed herself and said, in a sharp tone: “You are very brutal, Bernard; and I hate these ways of yours. What is the matter with you?” Perplexed and confused, I told her that I thought her mare was bolting, and that I was afraid some accident might happen to her if she allowed herself to be carried away by the excitement of the ride. “And to save me,” she replied, “you make me fall, at the risk of killing me! Really, that was most considerate of you.” “Let me help you to mount again,” I said. And without waiting for her permission, I took her in my arms and lifted her off the ground. “You know very well that I do not mount in this way!” she exclaimed, now quite irritated. “Leave me alone; I don’t want your help.”