I thought instead of an occasion, not so very long ago, when the Vicomte being at home, we had had a great hawking party.
Bezers and Catherine had ridden up the street together, and Catherine giving the cripple a piece of money, Bezers had flung to him all his share of the game.

And my heart sank.
Only for a moment, however.

The man was gone; or was going at any rate.

We stood silent and motionless, all watching, until, after what seemed a long interval, the little party of seven became visible on the white road far below us--to the northward, and moving in that direction.

Still we watched them, muttering a word to one another, now and again, until presently the riders slackened their pace, and began to ascend the winding track that led to the hills and Cahors; and to Paris also, if one went far enough.
Then at length with a loud "Whoop!" we dashed across the terrace, Croisette leading, and so through the courtyard to the parlour; where we arrived breathless.