Evidently the race was ours by an easy canter.

From that point to within two miles of Peronne, Yolanda's song was as joyous as that of a wooing bird.

The sun beat down upon us, and blinding clouds of dust rose from every plunge of our horses' hoofs; but Yolanda's song transformed our hot, wearisome journey into a triumphant march.
Happiness seemed to radiate from her and to furnish joy for all.
For a stretch of two miles up river from Peronne the roads approached each other, but, owing to an intervening marsh, they were fully half a mile apart.

We, or at least Yolanda, had apparently forgotten the duke when, near the hour of eight in the morning, we approached the marsh; but when we entered the open country we saw, to our consternation, the duke's cavalcade within one mile of Peronne.

Where they had passed us we did not know, nor did we stop to consider.