No horse could have been animated to so great a fury of speed.
No lion could have had a more ferocious desire of coming up with his prey.
Pitou had more than half a league to run when he perceived Catherine; he did not give her time enough to go a quarter of a league, while he was running twice that distance.
His speed was therefore double that of a horse that was trotting.
At length he came to a line with the object of his pursuit.
The extremity of the forest was then not more than five hundred paces from him. He could see the light more clearly through the trees, and just beyond them was the estate of Boursonne.
It was no longer merely for the purpose of seeing Catherine that Pitou followed her; it was to watch her!
She had spoken that which was false. What could be her object?
That mattered not. In order to gain a certain degree of authority over her, it was necessary to surprise her, and prove that she had uttered a flagrant falsehood.
Pitou threw himself head foremost into the underwood and thorns, breaking through them with his helmet, and using his sabre to clear the way when it was necessary.
However, as Catherine was now only moving on at a walk, from time to time the crackling noise of a branch being broken reached her ear, which made both the horse and the mistress prick up their ears.
Then Pitou, whose eyes never for a moment lost sight of Catherine, stopped, which was of some advantage to him, as it enabled him to recover his breath, and it destroyed at the same time any suspicion that Catherine might entertain.
This, however, could not last long, nor did it.
Pitou suddenly heard Catherine’s horse neigh, and this neighing was replied to by the neighing of another horse. The latter could not yet be seen.
But however this might be, Catherine gave hers a smart cut with her holly switch; and the animal, which had taken breath a few moments, set off again in full trot.
In about five minutes, thanks to this increase of speed, she had come up with a horseman, who had hastened towards her with as much eagerness as she had shown to reach him.
Catherine’s movement had been so rapid and unexpected that poor Pitou had remained motionless, standing in the same place, only raising himself on his tiptoes that he might see as far as possible.
The distance was too great to enable him to see clearly.
But if he did not see, what Pitou felt, as if it had been an electric shock, was the delight and the blushing of the young girl. It was the sudden start which agitated her whole body. It was the sparkling of her eyes, usually so gentle, but which then became absolutely flashing.
Neither could he see who was the cavalier. He could not distinguish his features; but recognizing by his air, by his green velvet hunting-coat, by his hat with its broad loop, by the easy and graceful motion of his head, that he must belong to the very highest class of society, his memory at once reverted to the very handsome young man, the elegant dancer of Villers-Cotterets; his heart, his mouth, every fibre of his nerves, murmured the name of Isidore de Charny.
And it was he in fact.
Pitou heaved a sigh which was very much like a roar; and, rushing anew into the thicket, he advanced within twenty paces of the two young people, then too much occupied with each other to remark whether the noise they heard was caused by the rushing of a quadruped or of a biped through the underwood.
The young man, however, turned his head towards Pitou, raised himself up in his stirrups, and cast a vague look around him.
But at the same moment, and in order to escape this investigation, Pitou threw himself flat on his face.
Then, like a serpent, he glided along the ground about ten paces more, and having then got within hearing distance, he listened.
“Good-day, Monsieur Isidore,” said Catherine.
“Monsieur Isidore!” murmured Pitou; “I was sure of that.”