ister, he often talks of her."

"She is a fine-looking woman."

Alice drew herself up. "You should see _him_. When I walk with him in
the street, people turn round to take another look at him. He is a
giant! But not of the kind that run to muscle and flesh. No, very tall,
agile."

"A trained athlete, I suppose?"

"Magnificent! His strength is what he is proudest of and delights most
in displaying."

"Is he stupid, then?"

"Stupid? Frans Roey?----" She leaned back again, and Mary asked no more.

They had been late in setting out. Endless rows of returning carriages
passed them. The three broad driving-roads of the Avenue were crowded.
The nearer they came to the iron gate where these three meet in one, the
more compact did the rows become. The display of light, many-coloured
spring costumes on this first day of sunshine after rain was a unique
sight. Amongst the fresh foliage the carriages looked like baskets of
flowers among green leaves--one behind the other, one alongside of the
other, without beginning, without end.

At the iron gate they came close to the undulating crowd of pedestrians.
No sooner were they inside than a disturbance communicated itself from
right to left. The people on the right must see something invisible to
the others. Some of them were screaming and pointing in the direction of
the lakes; the carriages were ordered to drive either to the side or
into the cross-roads; the agitation increased; it was soon universal.
Gendarmes and park-keepers rushed hither and thither; the carriages were
packed so closely together that none of them could move on. A broad
space in the centre was soon clear for a considerable distance. All
gazed, all questioned ... there it came! A pair of frantic horses with a
heavy carriage behind them. On the box both coachman and groom were to
be seen. There must have been a struggle, since there had been time to
clear the way; or else the horses must have bolted a long way off. Up
here, inside the gate, all the carriages had disappeared from the
central passage. Alice's stood blocked nearest the gate, against the
left footpath. They hear shouts behind them; probably the whole Avenue
is being cleared. But no one looks that way, all gaze straight ahead, at
the magnificent animals that are tearing frantically towards them.
Driven by curiosity, the crowds on both sides swayed back and forwards.
Terrified voices outside the gate cried: "Shut the gates!" A furious
protest,