“That is what I expect too; but it will do him good. This fellow needs a lesson; he is extremely pig-headed; he insists on breaking your dishes, capping your friends with cheese, climbing up behind carriages, and riding horseback; we must try to cure him of this exuberant zeal.”
A horse was saddled for Jasmin, and, with the aid of two hostlers, he succeeded in climbing to its back. The cavalcade started; in the streets of Paris they went slowly and the old servant was able to follow his master, which he did with much pride, sitting erect in his saddle and bearing heavily on his stirrups; but when they reached the Champs-Elysées, Chérubin and his two companions started off at a gallop. Jasmin, seeing his young master disappear in a cloud of dust, was determined to follow him, and began to strike his steed with his crop. The beast, desiring nothing more than to join his stable companions, sprang forward and darted in pursuit.
But his old rider had presumed too much on his strength; in a few seconds the horse was galloping alone and Jasmin was rolling in the dust.
When they reached the Bois de Boulogne, Chérubin turned and said:
“Well! where on earth is Jasmin?”
“I was certain that he couldn’t keep up with us,” said Daréna.
“If only he has not fallen and hurt himself!”
“Don’t be alarmed; at his age one falls gently. Somebody must have picked him up, and we must hope that this lesson will correct the old fellow a little, for his attachment needs to be toned down.”
They rode on, the two gentlemen admiring the confidence of their young companion, who needed only a few lessons in grace and style to become an excellent horseman.
After their ride they returned to Paris, sauntered along the boulevards, visited several cafés, then went to one of the best restaurants in the Palais-Royal, and after dinner to the play. About midnight Chérubin returned home, not having had a single moment during the day to think of the village.