[Weeps.
Mar. The horse can never do it.
[Shouts distant.
Des. Ah! he's—
Bev. In it?
Des. No, over it! Back again! [Shouts distant.] Here he comes. Egad! Black Harry's had enough of it.
[Shouts approach nearer.
Mar. [Aside.] There's some mystery about this man. He has hardly arrived, when all eyes seem turned to him. There certainly is a mystery.
Mlle H. It will be cleared up, Mademoiselle.
Enter Alain.