And now an agitation like the movement of the wind upon the waves of the sea or the leaves of the forest swayed the vast multitude.
“What’s the matter now?” inquired the General.
“The horses—they are coming,” answered Spencer.
“Is it the great race? Are they going to start?”
“Not just yet. They are being brought out and walked around the course to be shown. Here they are!” exclaimed Tredegar.
All in the barouche stood up, adjusted their field-glasses and levelled them at the race-course that encircled the field.
About thirty of the very finest horses in the world, decorated, and ridden by small, light jockeys in parti-colored suits and fancy caps, came on in procession and trotted around the course. Some three years ago these horses “the cream of the cream” of the horse nobility, had been bred and born to order, and from that time trained for this Derby—a most careful and costly preparation of three years for a trial that would be decided in half an hour. No wonder at the breathless interest they excited even among those who had no stake in the race.
Involuntary exclamations of admiration and delight burst from the ladies of our party.
“What beautiful creatures!” cried Anna.
“Pity they can’t all win,” added Drusilla.