Amethyst was screaming; and the prince, deadly pale, had lost all presence of mind, as the curricle came rushing by the spot where Miss Amethyst's carriage stood.
"I'm blest," Frederick exclaimed to his companion, "if it ain't the prince a-drivin our missis! They'll be in the Serpingtine, or dashed to pieces, if they don't mind." And the runaway steeds at this instant came upon them as a whirlwind.
But if those steeds ran at a whirlwind pace, Jeames was swifter.

To jump from behind, to bound after the rocking, reeling curricle, to jump into it, aided by the long stick which he carried and used as a leaping-pole, and to seize the reins out of the hands of the miserable Borodino, who shrieked piteously as the dauntless valet leapt on his toes and into his seat, was the work of an instant.

In a few minutes the mad, swaying rush of the horses was reduced to a swift but steady gallop; presently into a canter, then a trot; until finally they pulled up smoking and trembling, but quite quiet, by the side of Amethyst's carriage, which came up at a rapid pace.
"Give me the reins, malappris! tu m'ecrases le corps, manant!" yelled the frantic nobleman, writhing underneath the intrepid charioteer.
"Tant pis pour toi, nigaud," was the reply.

The lovely Amethyst of course had fainted; but she recovered as she was placed in her carriage, and rewarded her preserver with a celestial smile.
The rage, the fury, the maledictions of Borodino, as he saw the latter--a liveried menial--stoop gracefully forward and kiss Amethyst's hand, may be imagined rather than described.

But Jeames heeded not his curses.