On, on, on! there were no halts save for the needful rest and refreshment, or to try to get fresh horses to carry them forward.  A fire seemed to burn in Gaston’s veins as well as in those of Roger; and the knowledge that they were on the track of the fugitives gave fresh ardour to the pursuit at every halting place.

Only a few hours were allowed for rest and sleep during the darkest hour of the short night, and then on —­ on —­ ever on, urged by an overmastering desire to know what was happening to the prisoner behind those gloomy walls.

Roger’s sleep that night had been disturbed by hideous visions.  He did not appear to know or see anything that was passing; but a deep gloom hung upon his spirit, and he many times woke shivering and crying out with horror at he knew not what; whilst Gaston lay broad awake, a strange sense of darkness and depression upon his own senses.  He could scarce restrain himself from springing up and summoning his weary followers to get to horse and ride forth at all risks to the very doors of Saut, and only with the early dawn of day did any rest or refreshment fall upon his spirit.

Roger looked more himself as they rode forth in the dawn.

“Methinks we are near him now,” he kept saying; “my heart is lighter than it was.  We will save him yet —­ I am assured of it!  He is not dead; I should surely know it if he were.  We are drawing nearer every step.  We may be with him ere nightfall.”

“The walls of Saut lie betwixt us,” said Gaston, rather grimly, but he looked sternly resolute, as though it would take strong walls indeed to keep him from his brother when they were so near.

The country was beginning to grow familiar to him.  He picked up followers in many places as he passed through.  The name of De Brocas was loved here; that of De Navailles was loathed, and hated, and feared.

Evening was drawing on.  The woods were looking their loveliest in all the delicate beauty of their fresh young green.  Gaston, riding some fifty yards ahead with Roger beside him, looked keenly about him, with vivid remembrance of every winding of the woodland path.  Soon, as he knew, the grim Castle of Saut would break upon his vision —­ away there in front and slightly to the right, where the ground fell away to the river and rose on the opposite bank, crowned with those frowning walls.

He was riding so carelessly that when his horse suddenly swerved and shied violently, he was for a moment almost unseated; but quickly recovering himself, he looked round to see what had frightened the animal, and himself gave almost as violent a start as the beast had done.

And yet what he saw was nothing very startling:  only the light figure of a young girl —­ a girl fair of face and light of foot as a veritable forest nymph —­ such as indeed she looked springing out from the overhanging shade of that dim place.

For one instant they looked into each other’s faces with a glance of quick recognition, and then clasping her hands together, the girl exclaimed in the Gascon tongue: