h a smile:

"I don't think my wife got out of bed the right side this morning."

One evening, as they were returning home, the comtesse began to spur her
mare, and then pull her in with sudden jerks on the rein.

"Take care, or she'll run away with you," said Julien two or three
times.

"So much the worse for me; it's nothing to do with you," she replied, in
such cold, hard tones that the clear words rang out over the fields as
if they were actually floating in the air.

The mare reared, kicked, and foamed at the mouth and the comte cried out
anxiously:

"Do take care what you are doing, Gilberte!"

Then, in a fit of defiance, for she was in one of those obstinate moods
that will brook no word of advice, she brought her whip heavily down
between the animal's ears. The mare reared, beat the air with her fore
legs for a moment, then, with a tremendous bound, set off over the plain
at the top of her speed. First she crossed a meadow, then some ploughed
fields, kicking up the wet heavy soil behind her, and going at such a
speed that in a few moments the others could hardly distinguish the
comtesse from her horse.

Julien stood stock still, crying: "Madame! Madame!" The comte gave a
groan, and, bending down over his powerful steed, galloped after his
wife. He encouraged his steed with voice and hand, urged it on with whip
and spur, and it seemed as though he carried the big animal between his
legs, and raised it from the ground at every leap it took. The horse
went at an inconceivable speed, keeping a straight line regardless of
all obstacles; and Jeanne could see the two outlines of the husband and
wife diminish and fade in the distance, till they vanished altogether,
like two birds chasing each other till they are lost to sight beyond the
horizon.

Julien walked his horse up to his wife, murmuring angrily: "She is mad
to-day." And they both went off after their friends, who were hidden in
a dip in the plain. In about a quarter of an hour they saw them coming
back, and soon they came up to them.

The comte, looking red, hot and triumphant, was leading his wife's
horse. The comtesse was very pale; her features looked drawn and
contracted, and she leant on her husband's shoulder as if she were going
to faint. That day Jeanne understood, for the first time, how madly the
comte loved his wife.

All through the following month the comtesse was merrier than she had
ever been before. She came to Les Peuples as often