He rode onto the review ground, amidst the increasing
noise of applause, with a smile upon his lips, when,
suddenly, at the moment that he galloped up into the
large square, formed by the troops drawn up in a line,
the band of the fifty-third regiment struck up a quick
march, and, as if obeying a preconcerted signal, the
jennet began to turn round, and to accelerate its
speed, in spite of the furious tugs at the bridle which
the rider gave.
The horse performed beautifully, followed the rhythm
of the music, and appeared to be acting under some
invisible impulse, and the General had such a comical
look on his face, he looked so disconcerted, rolled
his eyes, and seemed to be the prey to such terrible
exasperation, that he might have been taken for some
character in a pantomime, while his staff followed
him, without being able to comprehend this fresh fancy
of his.
The soldiers presented arms, the music did not stop,
though the instrumentalists were much astonished at
this interminable ride.
The General at last became out of breath, and could
scarcely keep in the saddle, and the women, in the
crowded ranks of the spectators, gave prolonged, nervous
laughs, which made the old roue’s ears
tingle with excitement.
The horse did not stop until the music ceased, and
then it knelt down with bent head, and put its nostrils
into the dust.
It nearly gave General de Croisailles an attack of
the jaundice, especially when he found out that it
was his aide-de-camp’s tit for tat, and
that the horse came from a circus which was giving
performances in the town. And what irritated
him all the more was, that he could not even set it
down against Montboron and have him sent to some terrible
out-of-the-way hole, for the Captain sent in his resignation,
wisely considering that sooner or later he should
have to pay the costs of that little trick, and that
the chances were that he should not get any further
promotion, but remain stationary, like a cab which
some bilker has left standing for hours at one end
of an arcade, while he has made his escape at the
other.
During nearly his whole life, he had had an insatiable
love for sport. He went out every day, from morning
till night, with the greatest ardor, in summer and
winter, spring and autumn, on the marshes, when it
was close time on the plains and in the woods.
He shot, he hunted, he coursed, he ferreted; he spoke
of nothing but shooting and hunting, he dreamt of it,
and continually repeated:
“How miserable any man must be who does not
care for sport!”
And now that he was past fifty, he was well, robust,
stout and vigorous, though rather bald, and he kept
his moustache cut quite short, so that it might not
cover his lips, and interfere with his blowing the
horn.
