“Oh! Mademoiselle,” le curé protested benignly, “with M. le Comte by your side, you were as safe as in your own boudoir; and every lad here knows how to stay a runaway horse.”
“Nay!” Mademoiselle rejoined with just a thought of resentment in her tone, “methinks every one was too much occupied in attending to that wench yonder, to pay much heed to me.”
For a moment it seemed as if the old priest would say something more, but he certainly thought better of it and pressed his lips tightly together, as if to check the words which perhaps were best left unsaid. Indeed there appeared to be some truth in Rixende’s complaint, for while she certainly was the object of Bertrand’s tender solicitude, and the old curé stood beside her to offer sympathy and apology for the potential accident, all the boys and girls, the men and women, were crowding around the group composed of Nicolette, Ameyric, Margaï and Jaume Deydier.
Nicolette had not been hurt, thanks to Ameyric’s promptitude, but she had been in serious danger from the fretful, maddened horse, whom his rider was powerless to check. She had fallen on her knees and was bruised and shaken, but already she was laughing quite gaily, and joking over her father’s anxiety and Margaï’s fussy ways. Margaï was preparing bandages for the bruised knee and a glass of orange-flower water for her darling’s nerves, whilst rows of flushed and sympathising faces peered down anxiously upon the unwilling patient.
“Eh! Margaï, let me be,” Nicolette cried, and jumped to her feet, to show that she was in no way hurt. “What a to-do, to be sure. One would think it was I who nearly fell from a horse.”
“Women,” muttered Margaï crossly, “who don’t know how to sit a horse should not be allowed to ride.”
And rows of wise young heads nodded sagely in assent.
Rixende, watching this little scene from the road, felt querulous and irritated.
“Who,” she asked peremptorily, “was that fool of a girl who threw herself between my horse’s feet?”
“It was our little Nicolette,” the curé replied gently. “The child was running and dancing, and Ameyric dragged her so fast in the Farandoulo that she lost her footing and fell. She might have been killed,” the old man added gravely.