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董洪健donghongjian And she rode at full speed through the night, as she had done through the daylight, her eyes glancing all around in the keen instinct of a trooper, her hand always on the butt of her belt pistol. For she knew well what the danger was of these lonely, unguarded, untraveled leagues that yawned in so vast a distance between her and her goal. The Arabs, beaten, but only rendered furious by defeat, swept down on to those plains with the old guerrilla skill, the old marvelous rapidity. She knew that with every second shot or steel might send her reeling from her saddle; that with every moment she might be surrounded by some desperate band who would spare neither her sex nor her youth. But that intoxication of peril, the wine-draught she had drunk from her infancy, was all which sustained her in that race with death. It filled her veins with their old heat, her heart with its old daring, her nerves with their old matchless courage; but for it she would have dropped, heart-sick with terror and despair, ere her errand could be done; under it she had the coolness, the keenness, the sagacity, the sustained force, and the supernatural strength of some young hunted animal. They might slay her, so that she left perforce her mission unaccomplished; but no dread of such a fate had even an instant's power to appall her or arrest her. While there should be breath in her, she would go on to the end.　　But the next care was the poor maid: she lay all along upon thedeck, hard by her mistress, and just like one that had fallen downin a fit of apoplexy, and struggled for life. Her limbs weredistorted; one of her hands was clasped round the frame of thechair, and she gripped it so hard that we could not easily make herlet it go; her other arm lay over her head, and her feet lay bothtogether, set fast against the frame of the cabin table: in short,she lay just like one in the agonies of death, and yet she wasalive too. The poor creature was not only starved with hunger, andterrified with the thoughts of death, but, as the men told usafterwards, was broken-hearted for her mistress, whom she saw dyingfor two or three days before, and whom she loved most tenderly. Weknew not what to do with this poor girl; for when our surgeon, whowas a man of very great knowledge and experience, had, with greatapplication, recovered her as to life, he had her upon his handsstill; for she was little less than distracted for a considerabletime after.Nevertheless, despite her gay contempt for rank, her heart beat fast under its gold-laced packet as she reined up Etoile and saluted. In that hot, clear sun all the eyes of that immense host were fastened on her, and the hour of her longing desire was come at last. France had recognized that she had done greatly. There was a group before her, large and brilliant, but at them Cigarette never looked; what she saw were the faces of her children, of men who, in the majority, were old enough to be her grandsires, who had been with her through so many darksome hours, and whose black and rugged features lightened and grew tender whenever they looked upon their Little One. For the moment she felt giddy with sweet, fiery joy; they were here to behold her thanked in the name of France.Chanrellon flushed scarlet over his frank brow, and an instant's passion gleamed out of his eyes; the next he threw his three chairs down with a crash, as he shook his mighty frame like an Alpine dog, and bowed with a French grace, with a campaigner's frankness.He motioned them all back with his hand, and went into the gloom of the chamber alone. Not one among them followed.