THE AMAZON HAS A FALL
They were a well-matched pair: he, the perfect type of the elegant and
always youthful soldier; she, the most dashing of all the Amazons in the
Bois, to quote the words of Edmond Delorme.
Everyone was familiar with the personal appearance of both riders, and
recognized them, but until now Mademoiselle de Vermont had always ridden
alone, and now to see her accompanied by the gallant General, whose
embroidered kepi glittered in the sunlight, was a new spectacle for the
gallery.
The people looked at them all the more because Seaman was still prancing,
but without unseating his mistress, who held him at any gait or any
degree of swiftness that pleased her.
"What a good seat you have!" said Henri.
"That is the first real compliment you ever have paid me. I shall
appropriate it immediately, before you have time to retract it," Zibeline
replied.
At the circle of Melezes, Henri proposed to turn to the right, in order
to reach Longchamp.
"A flat race! You are joking!" Zibeline cried, turning to the left,
toward the road of La Vierge,
"You don't intend that we shall run a steeplechase, I hope."
"On the contrary, that is exactly my intention! You are not afraid to
try it, are you?"
"Not on my own account, but on yours."
"You know very well that I never am daunted by any obstacle."
"Figuratively, yes; but in riding a horse it is another matter."
"All the more reason why I should not be daunted now," Zibeline insisted.
When they arrived at the public square of the Cascades, in front of the
Auteuil hippodrome, she paused a moment between the two lakes, uncertain
which course to take.
It was Thursday, the day of the races. The vast ground, enclosed on all
sides by a fence, had been cleared, since early morning, of the boards
covering the paths reserved for pedestrians on days when there was no
racing; but it was only eleven o'clock, and the place was not yet open to
the paying public. Several workmen, in white blouses, went along the
track, placing litters beside the obstacles where falls occurred most
frequently.
"Do you think the gatekeeper will allow us to enter at this hour?"
Zibeline asked.
"I hope not!" Henri replied.
"Well, then, I shall enter without his permission! You are free to
declare me the winner. I shall be left to make a walkover, I see!"
And setting off at a gallop along the bridle-path, which was obstructed a
little farther on by the fence itself, she struck her horse resolutely,
and with one audacious bound sprang over the entrance gate. She was now
on the steeplechase track.
"You are mad!" cried the General, who, as much concerned for her safety
as for his own pride, urged on his mare, and, clearing the fence, landed
beside Zibeline on the other side.
"All right!" she cried, in English, dropping her whip, as the starter
drops the flag at the beginning of a race.
The die was cast. Henri bent over Aida's neck, leaning his hands upon
her withers in an attitude with which experience had made him familiar,
and followed the Amazon, determined to win at all hazards.
Zibeline's groom, an Englishman, formerly a professional jockey, had
already jumped the fence, in spite of the cries of the guard, who ran to
prevent him, and coolly galloped after his mistress, keeping at his usual
distance.
The first two hedges, which were insignificant obstacles for such horses,
were crossed without effort.
"Not the brook, I beg of you!" cried Henri, seeing that, instead of
running past the grand-stand, Zibeline apparently intended to attempt
this dangerous feat.
"Come on! Seaman would never forgive me if I balk at it!" she cried,
riding fearlessly down the slope,
The good horse gathered up his four feet on the brink, took one vigorous
leap, appearing for a second to hover over the water; then he fell
lightly on the other side of the stream, with a seesaw movement, to which
the intrepid Amazon accommodated herself by leaning far back. The
rebound threw her forward a little, but she straightened herself quickly
and went on.
The General, who had slackened his pace that he might not interfere with
her leap, gave vent to a sigh of relief. He pressed Aida's flanks
firmly, and the big Irish mare jumped after her competitor, with the
majestic dignity of her race.
Reassured by the 'savoir-faire' of his companion, the former winner of
the military steeplechase felt revive within himself all his ardor for
the conflict, and he hastened to make up the distance he had lost.
The two horses, now on the west side of the racetrack, were almost neck-
and-neck, and it would have been difficult to prognosticate which had the
better chance of victory. Zibeline's light weight gave Seaman the
advantage, but Aida gained a little ground every time she leaped an
obstacle; so that, after passing the hurdles and the third hedge, the
champions arrived simultaneously at the summit of the hill, from which
point the track extends in a straight line, parallel with the Allee des
Fortifications.
Feeling himself urged on still harder, the English horse began to lay
back his ears and pull so violently on the rein that his rider had all
she could do to hold him, and lacked sufficient strength to direct his
course. Seeing Zibeline's danger, Henri hastened to slacken his horse's
pace, but it was too late: the almost perpendicular declivity of the
other side of the hill added fresh impetus to the ungovernable rush of
Seaman, who suddenly became wild and reckless.
The situation was all the more critical for the reason that the next
obstacle was a brook, only two metres wide, but of which the passage was
obstructed on the farther side of the track by heavy beams, laid one on
top of another, solidly riveted and measuring one metre and ten
millimetres from the base to the summit. The excited horse charged
obliquely toward this obstruction with all his might. Paying no more
attention to the pressure upon his bit, he rose in the air, but as he had
not given himself sufficient time to take plenty of room for the leap,
his hoofs struck violently against the top beam, the force of resistance
of which threw him over on one side; his hindquarters turned in the air,
and he fell in a heap on the other side of the obstacle, sending up a
great splash of water as he went into the brook.
Had Zibeline been crushed by the weight of the horse in this terrible
fall, or, not having been able to free herself from him, had she been
drowned under him? Henri uttered a hoarse cry, struck his spurs into the
sides of his mare, crossed the brook breathlessly, stopping on the other
side as soon as he could control his horse's pace; then, rushing back, he
leaped to the ground to save the poor girl, if there was still time to do
so.
Zibeline lay inanimate on the grass, her face lying against the earth.
By a lucky chance, the horse had fallen on his right side, so that his
rider's limbs and skirt had not been caught. Unhorsed by the violence of
the shock, Zibeline had gone over the animal's head and fallen on the
other side of the brook. Her Amazon hat, so glossy when she had set out,
was now crushed, and her gloves were torn and soiled with mud; which
indicated that she had fallen on her head and her hands.
Henri knelt beside her, passed his arm around her inert and charming
body, and drew her tenderly toward him. Her eyes were half-open and
dull, her lips pale; her nose, the nostrils of which were usually well
dilated, had a pinched look; and a deadly pallor covered that face which
only a moment before had been so rosy and smiling.
These signs were the forerunners of death, which the officer had
recognized so many times on the battlefield. But those stricken ones had
at least been men, devoting themselves to the risks of warfare; while in
the presence of this young girl lying before him, looking upon this
victim of a reckless audacity to which he felt he had lent himself too
readily, the whole responsibility for the accident seemed to him to rest
upon his own shoulders, and a poignant remorse tore his heart.
He removed her cravat, unhooked her bodice, laid his ear against her
breast, from which an oppressed breathing still arose.
Two laborers hurried to open the gate and soon arrived at the spot with a
litter, guided by the groom, whose horse had refused to jump the brook,
and who since then had followed the race on foot outside the track.
While the General placed Zibeline on the litter, the groom took Aida by
the bridle, and the sad procession made its way slowly toward the
enclosure surrounding the weighing-stand.
As for Seaman, half submerged in the stream, and with an incurable
fracture of the leg, nothing was left to do for the poor animal but to
kill him.