e that! They'll make the horse bolt!"

They lunched on the grass in the Vesinet woods, having brought
provisions with them in the carriage.

Although the driver was looking after the three horses, Hector rose
every minute to see if his own lacked anything; he patted him on the
neck and fed him with bread, cakes and sugar.

"He's an unequal trotter," he declared. "He certainly shook me up a
little at first, but, as you saw, I soon got used to it. He knows his
master now and won't give any more trouble."

As had been decided, they returned by the Champs-Elysees.

That spacious thoroughfare literally swarmed with vehicles of every
kind, and on the sidewalks the pedestrians were so numerous that they
looked like two indeterminate black ribbons unfurling their length from
the Arc de Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde. A flood of sunlight
played on this gay scene, making the varnish of the carriages, the steel
of the harness and the handles of the carriage doors shine with dazzling
brilliancy.

An intoxication of life and motion seemed to have invaded this
assemblage of human beings, carriages and horses. In the distance the
outlines of the Obelisk could be discerned in a cloud of golden vapor.

As soon as Hector's horse had passed the Arc de Triomphe he became
suddenly imbued with fresh energy, and, realizing that his stable was
not far off, began to trot rapidly through the maze of wheels, despite
all his rider's efforts to restrain him.

The carriage was now far behind. When the horse arrived opposite the
Palais de l'Industrie he saw a clear field before him, and, turning to
the right, set off at a gallop.

An old woman wearing an apron was crossing the road in leisurely
fashion. She happened to be just in Hector's way as he arrived on the
scene riding at full speed. Powerless to control his mount, he shouted
at the top of his voice:

"Hi! Look out there! Hi!"

She must have been deaf, for she continued peacefully on her way until
the awful moment when, struck by the horse's chest as by a locomotive
under full steam, she rolled ten paces off, turning three somersaults on
the way.

Voices yelled:

"Stop him!"

Hector, frantic with terror, clung to the horse's mane and shouted:

"Help! help!"

A terrible jolt hurled him, as if shot from a gun, over his horse's ears
and cast him into the arms of a policeman who was running up to stop
him.

In the space of a second a furious, gesticulating, vociferatin