Pierre Olsdorf and his usual companions were to start for the banks of the Wandau, there to hunt the stag; and Lise had determined to accompany her husband's friends as far as the Elva farm, three leagues distant from the château, and cultivated by one Soublaieff, an old retainer of the prince, whom he had brought from his estates in the Crimea and for whom he had a great affection. At this early hour, under the oblique rays of the sun, the great court-yard of Pampeln was a charming sight for a painter. There was a noise, a movement, and a kaleidoscope of colors not easy to describe. Excited by the barking of the hounds, which the footmen held coupled in leashes, by the blasts on the horns of the huntsmen giving the signal for the start, and by the different orders that were being shouted one over the other, the horses, with erect ears and waving manes, pawed the ground impatiently under their riders, who all wore the correct hunting costume, which the prince had been one of the first to make fashionable in Russia--wide breeches, high boots, and a double-breasted tunic, caught in at the waist with a leathern belt, in which a Circassian dagger was stuck. In front of the flight of steps leading up to the house were the carriages for General Podoi's wife and her friends. The horses were superb creatures which the drivers could scarcely control. The artist saw none of these things, however. His eyes were fixed on the princess, and could not quit her. In her riding-habit, a masterpiece of some great Parisian costumer, which showed the symmetry of her form and the rich swell of her bust, Lise Olsdorf was wonderfully beautiful. Under the coquettish hat, made in the Louis XV. style, her clearly cut face had a brave and almost saucy look. Her little gloved hand held firmly and gracefully the reins of the splendid thorough-bred she was riding. Paul, in admiration, stopped short at a few paces' distance, forgetting even to salute her. Not until the princess spoke did he recover himself. "Are you not going to join us?" she asked in an amused tone. "What are you thinking?" "Pardon me, madame, pardon me," said the painter, doffing his hat. "I was admiring." He had not dared to say, "I was admiring you," but Lise Olsdorf understood. "That is not a reply," she said, smiling. "See, yonder are two horses ready saddled. But perhaps you are not a rider, and I warn you that our animals are pretty spirited." "I should not be one of my race or my country, madame, if I were not a horseman." At a sign from him the groom holding the two horses brought them up and gave him one. Not using the stirrup, he leaped into the saddle. "Bravo!" exclaimed the prince, coming up at that moment to ask his wife if he should give the order for a start. "Are you going with us?" "Only as a companion on the road, prince," Paul replied, taking a whip--the _najayka_, as it is called--that one of the footmen handed to him.