Round full quarters--a thin long tail--large hocks--thin legs, as dry as bars of steel--hoofs hard as marble.

He spurred his own, but the distance between the two remained the same.

D'Artagnan listened attentively; not a breath of the horse reached him, and yet he seemed to cut the air.

The black horse, on the contrary, began to puff like any blacksmith's bellows.
"I must overtake him, if I kill my horse," thought the musketeer; and he began to saw the mouth of the poor animal, whilst he buried the rowels of his merciless spurs into his sides.

The maddened horse gained twenty toises, and came up within pistol-shot of Fouquet.
"Courage!" said the musketeer to himself, "courage! the white horse will perhaps grow weaker, and if the horse does not fall, the master must pull up at last." But horse and rider remained upright together, gaining ground by difficult degrees.