"Ah, lieutenant! Our preserver of Friday—quoi? Natalie, see who is here—our preserver of Friday!"
The girl was radiant. Her cheeks were flushed, and the gray eyes shone with a brightness that set Eugène's heart pounding so hard that he felt its throbbing must be dimpling the breast of his tunic.
"What a magnificent race!" she said, giving him her hand. "You have cause to be proud of Vivandière. It is something to have ridden such a horse."
"It is always something to ride a good horse," said Eugène, looking into her eyes, "and it is something, also, to be second in a good race, but it is more to be first. And I had my reasons for wishing to be that, mademoiselle."
Natalie smiled.
"Ah, sans doute!" she answered. "But you must not call me mademoiselle, monsieur. You must know that since yesterday I am a serious married woman. And what is more, my husband rode Flambeau! Am I not a veritable mascotte?"
She laid her hand on the arm of the officer at her side.
"My husband, Colonel Montrésor," she added. "Paul, this is the officer of whom I spoke to you—who was so kind—Lieutenant"—
She turned to Eugène, blushing divinely, with an embarrassed little laugh.
"Oh, pray forgive me!" she said. "I am so stupid—but—but—I have forgotten your name!"