"And we'll understand each other still better, shall we not?"
"That may be," she said, colouring.
The jockeys, in silk jackets, were trying to draw up their horses in order, and were holding them back with both hands. Somebody lowered a red flag. Then the entire five bent over the bristling manes, and off they started. At first they remained pressed close to each other in a single mass; this presently stretched out and became cut up. The jockey in the yellow jacket was near falling in the middle of the first round; for a long time it was uncertain whether Filly or Tibi should take the lead; then Tom Pouce appeared in front. But Clubstick, who had been in the rear since the start, came up with the others and outstripped them, so that he was the first to reach the winning-post, beating Sir Charles by two lengths. It was a surprise. There was a shout of applause; the planks shook with the stamping of feet.
"We are amusing ourselves," said the Maréchale. "I love you, darling!"
Frederick no longer doubted that his happiness was secure. Rosanette's last words were a confirmation of it.
A hundred paces away from him, in a four-wheeled cabriolet, a lady could be seen. She stretched her head out of the carriage-door, and then quickly drew it in again. This movement was repeated several times. Frederick could not distinguish her face. He had a strong suspicion, however, that it was Madame Arnoux. And yet this seemed impossible! Why should she have come there?
He stepped out of his own vehicle on the pretence of strolling into the weighing-room.
"You are not very gallant!" said Rosanette.
He paid no heed to her, and went on. The four-wheeled cabriolet, turning back, broke into a trot.
Frederick at the same moment, found himself button-holed by Cisy.