Immediately outside the gates of Nantes two white roads were seen diverging like separate fingers of a gigantic hand.

D'Artagnan, who had taken in all the panorama at a glance by crossing the terrace, was led by the line of the Rue aux Herbes to the mouth of one of those roads which took its rise under the gates of Nantes.

One step more, and he was about to descend the stairs, take his trellised carriage, and go towards the lodgings of M.Fouquet.

But chance decreed, at the moment of plunging into the staircase, that he was attracted by a moving point then gaining ground upon that road.
"What is that ?" said the musketeer to himself; "a horse galloping,--a runaway horse, no doubt.

What a rate he is going at!" The moving point became detached from the road, and entered into the fields.