"Opinions are very equally divided," said he, "so that there does not seem to be any favourite. As for the horses, they both come of good stock; one, Beverley, is by Augustus out of Cybele, and the other, Captain Morave, is by Camel out of Vengeress; both of them have spent two hunting seasons in England. As for the gentleman-riders, they are the Baron de Merteuil and the Marquis de Senneterre, and have each acquired a tremendous reputation among the upper crust of the habitués of Melton. They are said to equal our intrepid Captain Beacher, who broke his last sound limb (the left forearm) in last year's steeplechase, at St. Albans. One must be brave to face such danger. I have seen many races, I have been to hunts and steeplechases in Ireland, where they have stone walls instead of hedges, but the walls are never more than three or four feet high. To tell the truth, I have never seen anything worse than that bar," said Sir Henry ----, turning again towards the terrible barrier. At every moment new carriages were arriving, and the crowd of spectators becoming greater. This crowd was divided into two distinct parties; the first, which was the greater majority, consisted of persons who knew nothing of the rumours of society, and only saw in this race a sort of show, whose peril they never suspected. The smaller number, enlightened as to the reason and object assigned to this challenge, understood perfectly well the danger these gentleman-riders were about to expose themselves to. But I must say that all of the spectators, especially these last, were waiting for the hour of the race with an impatience that I shared with them, and was almost ashamed of. Very soon the crowd rushed towards the centre of the circle. Messieurs de Senneterre and de Merteuil had just got out of a carriage, and were mounting their horses to go to the starting-point. M. de Merteuil looked to be no more than twenty-five, of an elegant and graceful figure, and a charming face; he was calm and smiling, though rather pale. He wore a silk jacket, half black and half white, with a cap to match, his breeches were of pale yellow buckskin, and, to complete his costume, he wore top-boots. He rode Captain Morave. Captain Morave was a splendid bay horse, in such good condition that you could almost see the blood circulating in the veins under his fine, silky coat, which fairly reflected the light. You could have counted each one of his strong muscles, so divested of all superfluous fat was his firm flesh.