Run, I beg of you." Monsieur de Lucan gave the reins to his horse, and he started like the wind.

Julia had already disappeared under cover of the woods.

He followed her track; but among the timber, the roots and the roughness of the ground somewhat checked his speed.

At a short distance, in the center of a narrow clearing, the labor of ages and the filtrations of the soil had hollowed out one of those mysterious fountains whose limpid water, moss-grown banks, and aspect of deep solitude delight the imagination, and give rise to so many poetic legends.

When Monsieur de Lucan was able once more to see Julia, she had alighted from her horse.