"Your example will have been of great service to him," said the king, smiling; then suddenly crying out with fright: "Ah, the unhappy child! he will kill himself. . . . St. Clair has given up the reins, and the cursed mare will not let him approach her. . . . What kicks . . . what plunges. . . . She is a devil to mount . . . St. Clair, why did you not hold her while he mounted?" "Sire," said the old groom in a peevish tone, "the gentleman told me that he would manage the affair himself . . ." "And by Heaven, he does manage it" . . . said the king with astonishment;--"see there, marshal! on my word . . . he has bewitched her! . . . See how he approaches her, and she does not budge. . . . He caresses her, and the beast does not answer him with a bite, or a kick. . . . What do you say to that, St. Clair?" "Sire, I say . . . I say . . . I say that I don't understand it at all. . . . Ordinarily she can only be mounted by the aid of the nose-twister, she is so skittish and wild." . . . "Now see him in the saddle . . . faith! . . . he is wonderful . . . full of grace and agility. . . . What do you say to it Richelieu? What do you say, St. Clair?" said the king, whose whole face was radiant with pleasure at seeing the prowess of his young _protégé._ "Faith! I should say to the king that the boy, young as he is, is an accomplished horseman,--but he must possess some charm to have quieted the villainous kicker," . . . replied the marshal. "One cannot say, Sire, that the posture of the gentleman is absolutely bad," said old St. Clair. "He sits firm; his body and limbs are well poised, and he seems to have a hand at once light and steady". . . "And what the devil do you want more?" said the king; "but let us see . . . will she pass before the marble statue which so frightened her before? . . . No . . . no . . . she refuses--what bounds! Ah! poor boy!" . . . "He seems screwed to her back. She'll have to give in," cried the marshal; "and with his little figure. He must be strong as Hercules." "Monseigneur well knows that there is no great skill in keeping one's seat while a horse rears . . . the science is in foreseeing and preventing the rearing," rejoined St. Clair. "Even in that case you ought to be satisfied. Look! look, see how she passes the statue . . . as easy, as comfortably as an old hack. Well done! is he a sorcerer?" cried Louis XV., looking with astonishment at the marshal and St. Clair, not less surprised than himself.