[Footnote 1: In contrast to our present manners, I cannot help quoting this note of Madame la Princesse de Henin to Madame de Créquy, which is given in the delightful and witty Souvenirs de Madame de Créquy. "I shall not say 'you who know everything,' because you are weary of that formula, but you who are ignorant of nothing, my dear, have the goodness to explain to me something which I cannot understand, and which, it seems, is important to my financial interests (pardon for such a reason). I will begin by telling you that M. Lally is at St. Germain, and that Madame de Poix does not know how to answer the question that vexes me; her children are away; and so you will see why I write to you at the far end of Paris. The Chevalier de Thuysi writes to me word for word: 'I warn you to be on your guard against M. Lefèvre; I have been notified that he is about to settle his accounts.' (I must tell you that this Lefèvre has become my man of business.) But what can the chevalier mean by this warning? Tell me, I beg of you, what does it mean to 'hand in his cheque-book?' for these are his words. Madame de Poix thinks it is a metaphor of some sort, and that is all we can guess."] [Footnote 2: A famous carriage horse of Lord Chesterfield's.] CHAPTER XII THE GENTLEMAN-RIDERS True or false, M. de Cernay's story had awakened my curiosity to such a point that I was in the greatest hurry to arrive on the race-course. We started off for the Bois de Boulogne. It was a beautiful day in February; the sun was shining brightly; the pure fresh air, not too cold to be pleasant, gave a healthy colour to the ladies who were riding in open carriages on their way to the races. We stopped at the Porte Dauphine to mount our saddle-horses. Mine had to submit to another examination from M. de Cernay, who was apparently confirmed in the good opinion he had formed of me. This you may be sure flattered my vanity. As for his own horses, they were, like everything else he owned, perfect in every respect. M. du Pluvier proved himself to be the demonstration of a theory of mine, namely, that there are some men so constituted that they inevitably make themselves ridiculous; he was hardly on his horse's back before he allowed himself to be run away with. We supposed him to be some distance behind us, when he suddenly shot by us like an arrow. We watched him for some time, but his horse, turning into a cross-road, gave him such a shock that he lost his hat, and then he disappeared. We arrived tranquilly on the ground with Ismaël, laughing at this mishap. I should mention the fact that De Cernay, being the owner of a beautiful black Arab horse, and wishing to be as gracious as possible to his "lion," had offered it to Ismaël as a mount. The renegade had accepted, and his characteristic, dark face, and strange, brilliant costume contrasted violently with, and served, as no doubt M. de Cernay had foreseen, to accentuate the Parisian elegance of the latter.