ays brought luck.

"Well?" queried Nana when the young men returned after a prolonged visit
to the bookmakers.

"The odds are forty to one against you," said La Faloise.

"What's that? Forty to one!" she cried, astounded. "They were fifty to
one against me. What's happened?"

Labordette had just then reappeared. The course was being cleared,
and the pealing of a bell announced the first race. Amid the expectant
murmur of the bystanders she questioned him about this sudden rise in
her value. But he replied evasively; doubtless a demand for her had
arisen. She had to content herself with this explanation. Moreover,
Labordette announced with a preoccupied expression that Vandeuvres was
coming if he could get away.

The race was ending unnoticed; people were all waiting for the Grand
Prix to be run--when a storm burst over the Hippodrome. For some minutes
past the sun had disappeared, and a wan twilight had darkened over the
multitude. Then the wind rose, and there ensued a sudden deluge. Huge
drops, perfect sheets of water, fell. There was a momentary confusion,
and people shouted and joked and swore, while those on foot scampered
madly off to find refuge under the canvas of the drinking booths. In the
carriages the women did their best to shelter themselves, grasping
their sunshades with both hands, while the bewildered footmen ran to the
hoods. But the shower was already nearly over, and the sun began shining
brilliantly through escaping clouds of fine rain. A blue cleft opened in
the stormy mass, which was blown off over the Bois, and the skies seemed
to smile again and to set the women laughing in a reassured manner,
while amid the snorting of horses and the disarray and agitation of the
drenched multitude that was shaking itself dry a broad flush of golden
light lit up the field, still dripping and glittering with crystal
drops.

"Oh, that poor, dear Louiset!" said Nana. "Are you very drenched, my
darling?"

The little thing silently allowed his hands to be wiped. The young woman
had taken out her handkerchief. Then she dabbed it over Bijou, who was
trembling more violently than ever. It would not matter in the least;
there were a few drops on the white satin of her dress, but she didn't
care a pin for them. The bouquets, refreshed by the rain, glowed like
snow, and she smelled one ecstatically, drenching her lips in it as
though it were wet with dew.

Meanwhile the burst of rain had suddenly filled the stan