Fouquet had not yet perceived D'Artagnan.

But on issuing from the slope, a single echo struck the air; it was that of the steps of D'Artagnan's horse, which rolled along like thunder.

Fouquet turned round, and saw behind him, within a hundred paces, his enemy bent over the neck of his horse.

There could be no doubt--the shining baldrick, the red cassock--it was a musketeer.

Fouquet slackened his hand likewise, and the white horse placed twenty feet more between his adversary and himself.
"Oh, but," thought D'Artagnan, becoming very anxious, "that is not a common horse M.Fouquet is upon--let us see!" And he attentively examined with his infallible eye the shape and capabilities of the courser.