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It was the Luxembourg, and through the tall railings they caught a glimpse of well-kept lawns, splashing fountains and richly dressed children playing. From the distance came the stirring strains of a brass band. The coachman drove up to the curb and Jefferson jumped down, assisting Shirley to alight. In spite of Shirley's protest Jefferson insisted on paying. "Combien?" he asked the cocher.
Then he went to the lake edge a little apart from the rest and drank with his reflection glistening beneath him. It was a time of utter peace for the chestnut. While he drank he watched the line of images broken by the small waves in the lake and listened to the foals which had only tasted the water and now were splashing it about with their upper lips.
Tins of blazing pitch were rolling about the courtyard, close to the barrier, but before falling they had struck the piled mattresses and furniture, splashing fire and trickles of flame poured over the old bedticking, and upholstered chairs from the dining-room. At the same instant Nevill called from the door of his tower: "More cartridges, quick!
All day it was splashing and swashing through mud and mire, the rain-drops shining on the gun-barrels and dripping from the heavy-footed horses. Past the swollen Parret, through Eastover, by the peaceful village of Bawdrip, and over Polden Hill we made our way, until the bugles sounded a halt under the groves of Ashcot, and a rude meal was served out to the men.
The rest of us clustered more and more closely towards the drier end of the room, the table was pushed along, and the area beneath the extinguished conflagration abandoned to a tinkling, splashing company of pots and pans and bowls and baths.
"I say that's a sum! If I, poor wretch, had that! Ah, I'd have a fine time with it." "On your land?" "To be sure! Why, I'd be off " And Gravilo floated off into day dreams. Chelkash seemed crushed. His mustaches drooped, his right side was soaked by the splashing of the waves, his eyes looked sunken and had lost their brightness. He was a pitiable and depressed figure.
Hence his look was the slowest of possible clocks in respect of his age, and his manner was equally as much in the rear of his appearance. Christopher was now over five-and-twenty. He was getting so well accustomed to the spectacle of a world passing him by and splashing him with its wheels that he wondered why he had ever minded it.
Lady was more interested just then in splashing her hot body in the chill of the lake than in exploring for hypothetical chipmunks. Moreover, her keen ears caught a sound which rapidly swept nearer and nearer. A motor-car with the muffler cut out was approaching, at a most gratifyingly high speed. The noise was as martial music to Lady. The speed promised exhilarating sport.
Then they sat down on the grass and did ample justice to their appetising little meal. "I can't wait any longer. I'm going to bathe." So saying, Ivanoff hastily stripped, and, as he could not swim, he plunged into shallow water where the even sandy bottom was clearly visible. "It's lovely!" he cried, jumping about, and splashing wildly.
"Me help Boss?" "No, thank you. I'd better let the mess alone." "Boss ride Nig?" Kruger Bobs suggested, in the hushed tone in which all their talk had been carried on. "It is better not to change." The silence broadened, broken only by the splashing of eight hoofs in the ever-deepening mire, and by the sighing squeak of wet strap rubbing on wet strap. Then Kruger Bobs spoke again.
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