"He? with his pretty face? he would make a nice sprinkler of holy water to saints of your stamp!" said the other, smiling maliciously.
The horse was still obstinate; the rider, weary of gentle measures, used in turn the whip and spur, but with no results save kicks and fearful plunges.
Gradually, M. de Richelieu and his companion approached the Marquis. Seeing two gentlemen of venerable appearance coming towards him, Létorière respectfully saluted them.
"Well! young man . . . which has the right in this discussion, the man or the horse?" said the friend of M. de Richelieu.
"Faith! I hardly know, sir! the rider reasons with blows of his whip, and the beast replies by kicks. Such a conversation can be carried on for some time."
This answer, spoken without too much assurance, but with all the confident gayety of youth, made the questioner smile.
"You speak of it very nonchalantly, my young master . . . I should like very well to see you in the place of that horseman . . . you probably do not know that this is a mare of Ukraine. She came from Germany, and is a veritable demon . . . one that La Guérinière himself has not been able to master."
"If I were in that horseman's place, sir, I might perhaps be not more able, but more lucky," resolutely replied the Marquis.
"Truly! Well, will you try? Will you mount Barbara?"
"The mare is so beautiful . . . so proud . . . notwithstanding her viciousness . . . that I accept with all my heart, sir; and besides, the grass is so green that one need not desire a better carpet to fall upon," answered Létorière joyously.