A moment, and the main body moved off behind him, leaving Count Hannibal and six men to cover the rear.

The mist, which at noon had risen for an hour or two, was closing down again, and they had no sooner passed clear of the wood than the trees faded out of sight behind them.

It was not wonderful that they could not see Carlat.

Objects a hundred paces from them were completely hidden.
Trot, trot! Trot, trot! through a grey world so featureless, so unreal that the riders, now dozing in the saddle, and now awaking, seemed to themselves to stand still, as in a nightmare.

A trot and then a walk, and then a trot again; and all a dozen times repeated, while the women bumped along in their wretched saddles, and the horses stumbled, and the men swore at them.
Ha! La Garnache at last, and a sharp turn southward to Challans.