Remy ran to the stable, and Henri flew up the staircase.  At Remy’s cry Diana had opened her door; Henri seized her in his arms and carried her away as he would have done a child.  But she, believing in treason or violence, struggled, and clung to the staircase with all her might.

“Tell her that I am saving her, Remy!” cried Henri.

Remy heard the appeal, and cried: 

“Yes, yes, madame, he is saving you, or rather he will save you.  Come, for Heaven’s sake!”

CHAPTER LXIX.

Flight.

Henri, without losing time in reasoning with Diana, carried her out of the house, and wished to place her before him on his horse; but she, with a movement of invincible repugnance, glided from his arms, and was received by Remy, who placed her on her own horse.

“Ah, madame!” cried Henri, “how little you understand my heart.  It was not, believe me, for the pleasure of holding you in my arms, or pressing you to my heart, although for that favor I would sacrifice my life, but that we ought to fly as quickly as the birds, and look at them, how they fly!”

Indeed, in the scarcely dawning light were seen large numbers of curlews and pigeons, traversing the air with a quick and frightened flight, which, in the night, usually abandoned to the silent bat, looked strange to the eye, and sounded sinister to the ear.

Diana did not reply, but rode on without turning her head.  Her horse, however, as well as that of Remy, was fatigued with their long journey, and Henri, as he turned back each moment, saw that they could not keep up with him.

“See, madame!” said he, “how my horse outstrips yours, and yet I am holding him in with all my strength; for Heaven’s sake, madame, while there is yet time, if you will not ride with me, take my horse and leave me yours.”

“No, thank you, monsieur,” replied she, in her usual calm voice.

“But, madame,” cried Henri, in despair, “the water gains on us; do you hear! do you hear?”

Indeed, a horrible crashing was now heard; it was the dyke of a neighboring village giving way, to swell the inundation.  Boards and props had given way, a double row of stakes broke with a noise like thunder, and the water, rushing over the ruins, began to invade an oak wood, of which they saw the tops trembling, and heard the branches cracking as though a flight of demons were passing under the leaves.

The uprooted trees knocking against the stakes, the wood of ruined houses floating on the waters, the distant neighings and cries of horses and men carried away by the inundation, formed a concert of sounds so strange and gloomy that the terror which agitated Henri began to seize also upon Diana.  She spurred her horse, and he, as if he understood the danger, redoubled his efforts.  But the water gained on them, and before ten minutes it was evident that it would reach them.  Every instant Henri turned and cried, “Quicker, madame! for pity’s sake; the water comes; here it is!”