“Do keep quiet now,” said Labordette at last. “You’ll be sorry for it if you do.” “Frangipane’s a screw,” Philippe declared. “He’s been utterly blown upon already. You’ll see the canter.” The horses had gone up to the right, and they now started for the preliminary canter, passing in loose order before the stands. Thereupon there was a passionate fresh burst of talk, and people all spoke at once. “Lusignan’s too long in the back, but he’s very fit. Not a cent, I tell you, on Valerio II; he’s nervous—gallops with his head up—it’s a bad sign. Jove! Burne’s riding Spirit. I tell you, he’s got no shoulders. A well-made shoulder—that’s the whole secret. No, decidedly, Spirit’s too quiet. Now listen, Nana, I saw her after the Grande Poule des Produits, and she was dripping and draggled, and her sides were trembling like one o’clock. I lay twenty louis she isn’t placed! Oh, shut up! He’s boring us with his Frangipane. There’s no time to make a bet now; there, they’re off!” Almost in tears, La Faloise was struggling to find a bookmaker. He had to be reasoned with. Everyone craned forward, but the first go-off was bad, the starter, who looked in the distance like a slim dash of blackness, not having lowered his flag. The horses came back to their places after galloping a moment or two. There were two more false starts. At length the starter got the horses together and sent them away with such address as to elicit shouts of applause. “Splendid! No, it was mere chance! Never mind—it’s done it!” The outcries were smothered by the anxiety which tortured every breast. The betting stopped now, and the game was being played on the vast course itself. Silence reigned at the outset, as though everyone were holding his breath. White faces and trembling forms were stretched forward in all directions. At first Hazard and Cosinus made the running at the head of the rest; Valerio II followed close by, and the field came on in a confused mass behind. When they passed in front of the stands, thundering over the ground in their course like a sudden stormwind, the mass was already some fourteen lengths in extent. Frangipane was last, and Nana was slightly behind Lusignan and Spirit. “Egad!” muttered Labordette, “how the Englishman is pulling it off out there!” The whole carriageload again burst out with phrases and exclamations. Everyone rose on tiptoe and followed the bright splashes of color which were the jockeys as they rushed through the sunlight. At the rise Valerio II took the lead, while Cosinus and Hazard lost ground, and Lusignan and Spirit were running neck and neck with Nana still behind them. “By jingo, the Englishman’s gained! It’s palpable!” said Bordenave. “Lusignan’s in difficulties, and Valerio II can’t stay.” “Well, it will be a pretty biz if the Englishman wins!” cried Philippe in an access of patriotic grief.