ld thank me, and say that
pianoforte duets were always very enjoyable. But he did not pretend that
I was not an amateur, and he never--thank God!--suggested that we should
attempt _Tristan_ again....

At last he finished. And I heard distantly the bell which he had rung for
his glass of milk. And, remembering that I was not ready for the ride, I
ran with guilty haste into the house and upstairs.

The two bay horses were waiting, our English groom at their heads, when I
came out to the porch. Diaz was impatiently tapping his boot with his
whip. He was not in the least a sporting man, but he loved the sensation
of riding, and the groom would admit that he rode passably; but he loved
more to strut in breeches, and to imitate in little ways the sporting
man. I had learnt to ride in order to please him.

'Come along,' he exclaimed.

His eyes said: 'You are always late.' And I was. Some people always know
exactly what point they have reached in the maze and jungle of the day,
just as mariners are always aware, at the back of their minds, of the
state of the tide. But I was not born so.

Diaz helped me to mount, and we departed, jingling through the gate and
across the road into a glade of the forest, one of those long sandy
defiles, banked on either side, and over-shadowed with tall oaks, which
pierce the immense forest like rapiers. The sunshine slanted through the
crimsoning leafwork and made irregular golden patches on the dark sand to
the furthest limit of the perspective. And though we could not feel the
autumn wind, we could hear it in the tree-tops, and it had the sound of
the sea. The sense of well-being and of joy was exquisite. The beauty of
horses, timid creatures, sensitive and graceful and irrational as young
girls, is a thing apart; and what is strange is that their vast strength
does not seem incongruous with it. To be above that proud and lovely
organism, listening, apprehensive, palpitating, nervous far beyond the
human, to feel one's self almost part of it by intimate contact, to yield
to it, and make it yield, to draw from it into one's self some of its
exultant vitality--in a word, to ride--yes, I could comprehend Diaz' fine
enthusiasm for that! I could share it when he was content to let the
horses amble with noiseless hoofs over the soft ways. But when he would
gallop, and a strong wind sprang up to meet our faces, and the earth
shook and thundered, and the trunks of the trees raced past us, then I