“It’s the starter, the Baron de Mauriac,” said Labordette in reply to a question from Nana. All round the young woman exclamations were bursting from the men who were pressing to her very carriage step. They kept up a disconnected conversation, jerking out phrases under the immediate influence of passing impressions. Indeed, Philippe and Georges, Bordenave and La Faloise, could not be quiet. “Don’t shove! Let me see! Ah, the judge is getting into his box. D’you say it’s Monsieur de Souvigny? You must have good eyesight—eh?—to be able to tell what half a head is out of a fakement like that! Do hold your tongue—the banner’s going up. Here they are—’tenshun! Cosinus is the first!” A red and yellow banner was flapping in mid-air at the top of a mast. The horses came on the course one by one; they were led by stableboys, and the jockeys were sitting idle-handed in the saddles, the sunlight making them look like bright dabs of color. After Cosinus appeared Hazard and Boum. Presently a murmur of approval greeted Spirit, a magnificent big brown bay, the harsh citron color and black of whose jockey were cheerlessly Britannic. Valerio II scored a success as he came in; he was small and very lively, and his colors were soft green bordered with pink. The two Vandeuvres horses were slow to make their appearance, but at last, in Frangipane’s rear, the blue and white showed themselves. But Lusignan, a very dark bay of irreproachable shape, was almost forgotten amid the astonishment caused by Nana. People had not seen her looking like this before, for now the sudden sunlight was dyeing the chestnut filly the brilliant color of a girl’s red-gold hair. She was shining in the light like a new gold coin; her chest was deep; her head and neck tapered lightly from the delicate, high-strung line of her long back. “Gracious, she’s got my hair!” cried Nana in an ecstasy. “You bet you know I’m proud of it!” The men clambered up on the landau, and Bordenave narrowly escaped putting his foot on Louiset, whom his mother had forgotten. He took him up with an outburst of paternal grumbling and hoisted him on his shoulder, muttering at the same time: “The poor little brat, he must be in it too! Wait a bit, I’ll show you Mamma. Eh? Look at Mummy out there.” And as Bijou was scratching his legs, he took charge of him, too, while Nana, rejoicing in the brute that bore her name, glanced round at the other women to see how they took it. They were all raging madly. Just then on the summit of her cab the Tricon, who had not moved till that moment, began waving her hand and giving her bookmaker her orders above the heads of the crowd. Her instinct had at last prompted her; she was backing Nana. La Faloise meanwhile was making an insufferable noise. He was getting wild over Frangipane. “I’ve an inspiration,” he kept shouting. “Just look at Frangipane. What an action, eh? I back Frangipane at eight to one. Who’ll take me?”