He observed that the superintendent had relaxed into a trot, which was to say, he, too, was favoring his horse.

But both of them were too much pressed for time to allow them to continue long at that pace.

The white horse sprang off like an arrow the moment his feet touched firm ground.

D'Artagnan dropped his head, and his black horse broke into a gallop.

Both followed the same route; the quadruple echoes of this new race-course were confounded.