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Updated: May 13, 2025
"I should have been very well pleased, however " murmured young Desvanneaux, with regret. "If you had married her, Victor," said his mother, "I should have taken full charge of her wardrobe, and should have made some decided changes, I assure you." Perfectly indifferent to the general curiosity, Zibeline in her turn calmly reviewed the audience.
The order for the mobilizing of his own division having been received and transmitted, Henri's evening was his own, and he resolved to pass it with Lenaieff, feeling certain that his colleague at least would speak to him of Zibeline. The aide-de-camp general lived at the Hotel Continental, much frequented by Russians of distinction.
Zibeline needed all her firmness of grasp to force him, without allowing herself to be thrown, to stand still on the spot whence had come the movement that had alarmed him. "Your horse needs exercise," said Henri to the equestrienne. "You ought to give him an opportunity to do something besides the formal trot around this path."
He had been perfectly well aware of the gaze of Mademoiselle de Vermont, but whether he still cherished a slight resentment against the lady, or whether her appearance really displeased him, he cut the conversation short and went to pay his respects to the occupants of several boxes. Evidently Zibeline knew few persons in society, for no visitor appeared in her box.
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!"
A thaw had begun, not yet transforming the gutters into yellow torrents rushing toward the openings of the sewer, but covering the streets with thick, black mud, over which the wheels rolled noiselessly. "Your carriage is late, is it not?" said Zibeline, after the General had handed her into the brougham. "My carriage?" said the General. "Behold it!"
"I thank you, Mademoiselle," bowing, hat in hand, to his charming conductor. "Call me Valentine, please," she responded, with her usual ease of manner. "Even in the character of a stage father, that would be rather too familiar," said the Marquis. "Not so much so as to call me Zibeline," said Mademoiselle de Vermont, laughing. "Ha! ha! You know your sobriquet, then?" "I have known it a long time!
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."
"The young lady in the proscenium box, I will wager," said Lenaieff. "Precisely. I know that they call her Zibeline, but I did not catch her real name." "It is Mademoiselle de Vermont," said Edmond Delorme. "She is, in my opinion, the most dashing of all the Amazons in the Bois de Boulogne.
"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,
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