ely, yes; but in riding a horse it is another matter."

"All the more reason why I should not be daunted now," Zibeline insisted.

When they arrived at the public square of the Cascades, in front of the
Auteuil hippodrome, she paused a moment between the two lakes, uncertain
which course to take.

It was Thursday, the day of the races. The vast ground, enclosed on all
sides by a fence, had been cleared, since early morning, of the boards
covering the paths reserved for pedestrians on days when there was no
racing; but it was only eleven o'clock, and the place was not yet open to
the paying public. Several workmen, in white blouses, went along the
track, placing litters beside the obstacles where falls occurred most
frequently.

"Do you think the gatekeeper will allow us to enter at this hour?"
Zibeline asked.

"I hope not!" Henri replied.

"Well, then, I shall enter without his permission! You are free to
declare me the winner. I shall be left to make a walkover, I see!" And
setting off at a gallop along the bridle-path, which was obstructed a
little farther on by the fence itself, she struck her horse resolutely,
and with one audacious bound sprang over the entrance gate. She was now
on the steeplechase track.

"You are mad!" cried the General, who, as much concerned for her safety
as for his own pride, urged on his mare, and, clearing the fence, landed
beside Zibeline on the other side.

"All right!" she cried, in English, dropping her whip, as the starter
drops the flag at the beginning of a race.

The die was cast. Henri bent over Aida's neck, leaning his hands upon her
withers in an attitude with which experience had made him familiar, and
followed the Amazon, determined to win at all hazards.

Zibeline's groom, an Englishman, formerly a professional jockey, had
already jumped the fence, in spite of the cries of the guard, who ran to
prevent him, and coolly galloped after his mistress, keeping at his usual
distance.

The first two hedges, which were insignificant obstacles for such horses,
were crossed without effort.

"Not the brook, I beg of you!" cried Henri, seeing that, instead of
running past the grand-stand, Zibeline apparently intended to attempt
this dangerous feat.

"Come on! Seaman would never forgive me if I balk at it!" she cried,
riding fearlessly down the slope,

The good horse gathered up his four feet on the brink, took one vigorous
leap, appearing for a second to hover over the w