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Updated: June 29, 2025
But on reaching the Allee de Longchamp he found it guarded like the other roads, and therefore had to relinquish his plan of escaping by way of Madrid and the river-bank. While he was perforce making a bend alongside the Pre Catelan, he became aware that the keepers, led by detectives, were drawing yet nearer to him, confining his movements to a smaller and smaller area.
At the circle of Melezes, Henri proposed to turn to the right, in order to reach Longchamp. "A flat race! You are joking!" Zibeline cried, turning to the left, toward the road of La Vierge, "You don't intend that we shall run a steeplechase, I hope." "On the contrary, that is exactly my intention! You are not afraid to try it, are you?" "Not on my own account, but on yours."
Raoul dressed in frantic haste, prepared to forget his distress by flinging himself, as people say, into "the vortex of pleasure." Alas, he was a very sorry guest and, leaving his brother early, found himself, by ten o'clock in the evening, in a cab, behind the Longchamp race-course. It was bitterly cold. The road seemed deserted and very bright under the moonlight.
Of not remote royal descent, a relative of the kings both of England and France, he was a proud, worldly-minded, intensely ambitious prelate of the feudal sort and of great power, almost a reigning prince in the north. Longchamp was of the class of men who rise in the service of kings.
Madame Francois's horse, Balthazar, an animal that was far too fat, led the van. He was plodding on, half asleep and wagging his ears, when suddenly, on reaching the Rue de Longchamp, he quivered with fear and came to a dead stop.
At the circle of Melezes, Henri proposed to turn to the right, in order to reach Longchamp. "A flat race! You are joking!" Zibeline cried, turning to the left, toward the road of La Vierge, "You don't intend that we shall run a steeplechase, I hope." "On the contrary, that is exactly my intention! You are not afraid to try it, are you?" "Not on my own account, but on yours."
Then there were two powerful noblemen, both maintaining that they had been invested with the supreme power by virtue of the offices which they held. The name of one of them was Longchamp. He contrived to place himself, for a time, quite at the head of affairs, and the whole country was distracted by the wars which were waged between him and his partisans and the partisans of John.
The see of Canterbury was vacant, and Richard from his prison bestowed it on Hubert Walter, the Bishop of Salisbury, a nephew of Ranulf de Glanvill, and who had acted as secretary to Bishop Longchamp.
You will see women who sell themselves body and soul to drive in a carriage belonging to the son of a peer of France, who has a right to drive in the middle rank at Longchamp. You have seen that poor simpleton of a Goriot obliged to meet a bill with his daughter's name at the back of it, though her husband has fifty thousand francs a year.
Other high-handed proceedings followed, and many appeals against his chancellor were carried to Richard in France. To rearrange matters a great council was summoned to meet in Normandy about the end of winter. The result was that Richard sustained his minister as Longchamp had doubtless felt sure would be the case.
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