Her face was pale and her bosom heaved.

It was just at this moment that the young man came abreast of her; her flying locks flapped his face: and she had a hundredfold more reasons now than ever for wishing to die at that moment.

This youth, this ideal of her romantic dreams, was the husband of her dearest, her noblest, her loveliest friend.
Rudolf was obliged to give up all idea of stopping the maddened steed.
Instead of that, and, just as Fanny fell back half-swooning from her saddle, he swiftly seized her in his muscular grip, and pulled her right on to his own saddle.

The lady fainted away over his shoulder, and the horse dashed wildly onwards..