. Officers in
blue, huntsmen in red, ladies in black, jockeys in jackets, a sea of
feathers and flowers and sunshades, with the neighing of the horses and
yapping of the dogs, the vast undulating country, the smell of earth and
herbs, and the morning sunlight over all.

Don Camillo was waiting with horses for his party, and they mounted
immediately. The horse for Roma was a quiet bay mare with limpid eyes.
General Potter helped her to the saddle, and she went cantering through
the long lush grass.

"What has your charming young charge been doing with herself, Princess?"
said the American. "She was always beautiful, but to-day she's lovely."

"She's like Undine after she had found her soul," said the Englishman.

The little Princess laughed. "Love and a cough cannot be hidden,
gentlemen," she whispered, with a look toward David Rossi.

"You don't mean...."

"Hush!"

Meantime Rossi, in ordinary walking dress, was approaching the horse he
was intended to ride. It was a high strong-limbed sorrel with wild eyes
and panting nostrils. The English groom who held it was regarding the
rider with a doubtful expression, and a group of booted and spurred
huntsmen were closing around.

To everybody's surprise, the deputy gathered up the reins and leaped
lightly to the saddle, and at the next moment he was riding at Roma's
side. Then the horn was sounded, the pack broke into music, the horses
beat their hoofs on the turf and the hunt began.

There was a wall to jump first, and everybody cleared it easily until it
came to David Rossi's turn, when the sorrel refused to jump. He patted
the horse's neck and tried it again, but it shied and went off with its
head between its legs. A third time he brought the sorrel up to the
wall, and a third time it swerved aside.

The hunters had waited to watch the result, and as the horse came up for
a fourth trial, with its wild eyes flashing, its nostrils quivering, and
its forelock tossed over one ear, it was seen that the bridle had broken
and Rossi was riding with one rein.

"He'll be lucky if he isn't hurt," said some one.

"Why doesn't he give it the whip over its quarters?" said another.

But David Rossi only patted his horse until it came to the spot where it
had shied before. Then he reached over its neck on the side of the
broken rein, and with open hand struck it sharply across the nose. The
horse reared, snorted, and jumped, and at the next moment it was
standing quietly on