above water, and the rider, who had lost the reins in
struggling, fell with his head back and his arms extended.
One moment longer and all would disappear.
“Courage!” cried Raoul, “courage!”
“Too late!” murmured the young man, “too late!”
The water closed above his head and stifled his voice.
Raoul sprang from his horse, to which he left the charge of
its own preservation, and in three or four strokes was at
the gentleman’s side; he seized the horse at once by the
curb and raised its head above water; the animal began to
breathe again and, as if he comprehended that they had come
to his aid, redoubled his efforts. Raoul at the same time
seized one of the young man’s hands and placed it on the
mane, which it grasped with the tenacity of a drowning man.
Thus, sure that the rider would not release his hold, Raoul
now only directed his attention to the horse, which he
guided to the opposite bank, helping it to cut through the
water and encouraging it with words.
All at once the horse stumbled against a ridge and then
placed its foot on the sand.
“Saved!” exclaimed the man with gray hair, who also touched
bottom.
“Saved!” mechanically repeated the young gentleman,
releasing the mane and sliding from the saddle into Raoul’s
arms; Raoul was but ten yards from the shore; there he bore
the fainting man, and laying him down upon the grass,
unfastened the buttons of his collar and unhooked his
doublet. A moment later the gray-headed man was beside him.
Olivain managed in his turn to land, after crossing himself
repeatedly; and the people in the ferryboat guided
themselves as well as they were able toward the bank, with
the aid of a pole which chanced to be in the boat.
Thanks to the attentions of Raoul and the man who
accompanied the young gentleman, the color gradually
returned to the pale cheeks of the dying man, who opened his
eyes, at first entirely bewildered, but who soon fixed his
gaze upon the person who had saved him.
“Ah, sir,” he exclaimed, “it was you! Without you I was a
dead man — thrice dead.”
“But one recovers, sir, as you perceive,” replied Raoul,
“and we have but had a little bath.”
“Oh! sir, what gratitude I feel!” exclaimed the man with
gray hair.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“Ah, there you are, my good D’Arminges; I have given you a
great fright, have I not? but it is your own fault. You were
my tutor, why did you not teach me to swim?”
“Oh, monsieur le comte,” replied the old man, “had any
misfortune happened to you, I should never have dared to
show myself to the marshal again.”
“But how did the accident happen?” asked Raoul.
“Oh, sir, in the most natural way possible,” replied he to
whom they had given the title of count. “We were about a
third of the way across the river when the cord of the
ferryboat broke. Alarmed by the cries and gestures of the
boatmen, my horse sprang into the water. I cannot swim, and
dared not throw myself into the river. Instead of aiding the
movements of my horse, I paralyzed them; and I was just
going to drown myself with the best grace in the world, when
you arrived just in time to pull me out of the water;
therefore, sir, if you will agree, henceforward we are
friends until death.”
“Sir,” replied Raoul, bowing, “I am entirely at your
service, I assure you.”
“I am called the Count de Guiche,” continued the young man;
“my father is the Marechal de Grammont; and now that you
know who I am, do me the honor to inform me who you are.”
“I am the Viscount de Bragelonne,” answered Raoul, blushing
at being unable to name his father, as the Count de Guiche
had done.
“Viscount, your countenance, your goodness and your courage
incline me toward you; my gratitude is already due. Shake
hands — I crave your friendship.”
“Sir,” said Raoul, returning the count’s pressure of the
hand, “I like you already, from my heart; pray regard me as