the hour of eight in the morning
The sun beat down upon us , and blinding clouds of dust rose from every plunge of our horses ' hoofs ; but Yolanda 's song transformed our hot , wearisome journey into a triumphant march . Happiness seemed to radiate from her and to furnish joy for all . For a stretch of two miles up river from Peronne the roads approached each other , but , owing to an intervening marsh , they were fully half a mile apart . We , or at least Yolanda , had apparently forgotten the duke when , near the hour of eight in the morning , we approached the marsh ; but when we entered the open country we saw , to our consternation , the duke 's cavalcade within one mile of Peronne . Where they had passed us we did not know , nor did we stop to consider . They were five minutes ahead , and if we could not enter Peronne in advance of them , it were no worse had they been a day before us . Yolanda cast one frightened glance toward the duke 's party , and struck her horse a blow with her whip that sent it bounding forward at a furious gallop .