Chérubin went out with his two friends; he was beside himself with delight at the thought of a riding party. Being still a novice in all sorts of pleasure, Nicole’s foster-child had never before ridden anything but plough horses. They went to the stable-keeper, who ordered his three best horses saddled. Just as the gentlemen were mounting, they heard a voice calling: “Well! isn’t there a horse for me too?” Thereupon they discovered Jasmin, who had followed his master, after tightening the waistband of his breeches as much as possible, covering his head with a long-vizored cap, which entirely concealed his eyes and nose, and arming himself with a hunting crop. Chérubin and his friends could not help laughing at the aspect of Jasmin in the garb of a groom, and Monfréville exclaimed: “This old servant’s devotion is becoming very painful.” “But I don’t need you, Jasmin,” said Chérubin; “go back to the house; you can’t come with me, it would tire you too much.” “I know my duty, monsieur,” replied Jasmin; “my place is always in your rear.” “Yes, yes, he is right,” said Daréna; “and as he insists on coming with us, why, let him come.--A horse for this faithful retainer--a good little trotting horse. Jasmin has the look of an excellent rider.” “He will certainly be thrown,” said Chérubin, in an undertone. “That is what I expect too; but it will do him good. This fellow needs a lesson; he is extremely pig-headed; he insists on breaking your dishes, capping your friends with cheese, climbing up behind carriages, and riding horseback; we must try to cure him of this exuberant zeal.” A horse was saddled for Jasmin, and, with the aid of two hostlers, he succeeded in climbing to its back. The cavalcade started; in the streets of Paris they went slowly and the old servant was able to follow his master, which he did with much pride, sitting erect in his saddle and bearing heavily on his stirrups; but when they reached the Champs-Elysées, Chérubin and his two companions started off at a gallop. Jasmin, seeing his young master disappear in a cloud of dust, was determined to follow him, and began to strike his steed with his crop. The beast, desiring nothing more than to join his stable companions, sprang forward and darted in pursuit. But his old rider had presumed too much on his strength; in a few seconds the horse was galloping alone and Jasmin was rolling in the dust. When they reached the Bois de Boulogne, Chérubin turned and said: “Well! where on earth is Jasmin?” “I was certain that he couldn’t keep up with us,” said Daréna. “If only he has not fallen and hurt himself!” “Don’t be alarmed; at his age one falls gently. Somebody must have picked him up, and we must hope that this lesson will correct the old fellow a little, for his attachment needs to be toned down.” They rode on, the two gentlemen admiring the confidence of their young companion, who needed only a few lessons in grace and style to become an excellent horseman.