As I had scarcely taken my eyes off Ismaël during the whole period of the race, I was curious to know how much of his story could be true; so I told M. de Pommerive that I had heard nothing at all about such a story. Then that infernal mountebank began the following tale, accompanying it with ridiculous gestures and malicious pantomime, so as to make it more mischievous by making it amusing. "Imagine, then, my dear monsieur," said De Pommerive, "that at the very moment when these two unfortunate young men were about to risk their lives, from an exaggerated sense of what was due to her reputation, Madame de Pënâfiel was amusing herself by falling suddenly in love with a Turk. Yes, monsieur, for an infernal scoundrel of a Turk, who is as handsome as he can be, and whom De Cernay is infatuated with, nobody knows why. But to get up such a sudden passion for a Turk; can you conceive of such a thing? I can readily believe it, for every one knows how capricious and how blasé she is, that marquise! Nothing that she could do would astonish me. But women generally try to hide such exhibitions of their feelings,--not she, not at all." "That is a very strange story," said I. "There is not the slightest doubt about its truth," replied he. "Cernay, who was one of the judges, told me all about it, for it was of him that Madame de Pënâfiel had asked, with almost indecent haste, who was that Turk; for no sooner had she laid eyes on that remarkable specimen, then she had no eyes, no thoughts, for any one else. (Here M. de Pommerive spoke in a falsetto voice in supposed imitation of Madame de Pënâfiel). 'Ah, _mon Dieu_, how handsome he is! Where did he come from? Ah, what an adorable costume! Ah, how different from your hideous clothes! (She never thinks anything is handsome.) _Mon Dieu_, what an adorable face! What a noble figure! Oh, there is nothing of the common herd about him! What daring! How splendidly he holds his horse,' etc. I suppress the etcetera," added De Pommerive, as he returned to his natural voice, "because it would take me until to-morrow to repeat all of her impassioned exclamations. But, can you believe it? She ordered her driver to go up as close as possible, so that she might see him nearer, that lovely Turk, that adorable Turk!" "You are quite right. It was a sudden and violent passion. It was almost African," said I to M. de Pommerive, hardly able to keep from laughing outright at this truthful recital. "Ah, but wait," said he, "you have not yet heard the best of the story! Thanks to Madame Pënâfiel's cursed curiosity, one of her carriage horses ran against the crupper of the Grand Turk's horse, and the latter began to rear, to plunge, to paw the air with his fore feet; then, the marquise, almost fainting with alarm, terrified for the safety of her dear, delightful Turk, commenced to utter shrieks and lamentations.