"My father was mounted on a beautiful bay horse, with a gold-colored mane, my uncle on a gray horse, young and ardent, and I rode one of those little white ponies, which to strength and activity unite the docility of a sheep. "The woman looked up from her book at the group before her, and seeing me firm in my stirrups near my father, who seemed proud of me, she rose all at once, and approaching me, said-- "'What a pity!' "'What do you mean?' asked my father. "'It means that I do not like that white pony,' replied the woman. "'And why not?' "'Because he will bring misfortune to your child, Sirè de Pontcalec.' "We Bretons are superstitious, you know; so that even my father, who, you know, Montlouis, was an enlightened as well as a brave man, stopped, in spite of my uncle Crysogon, who urged us to proceed, and trembling at the idea of danger to me, he added-- "'Yet the pony is gentle, my good woman, and Clement rides well for his age. I have often ridden the little animal in the park, and its paces are perfect.' "'I do not know anything of that, Marquis de Guer,' replied the woman, 'but the little white horse will injure your son Clement, I tell you.' "'And how can you know this?' "'I see it,' replied she, in a strange voice. "'When?' asked my father. "'To-day.' "My father turned pale, and I was afraid; but my uncle Crysogon, who had been in the Dutch wars, and had become somewhat hardened by combating the Huguenots, laughed till he nearly fell from his horse. "'Parbleu!' said he, 'this good woman certainly is in league with the rabbits at Savernay. What do you say to it, Clement: would you like to go home and lose the sport?' "'Uncle,' I replied, 'I would rather go on with you.' "'You look pale and odd--are you afraid?' "'I am not afraid,' said I. "I lied, for I felt a certain shudder pass through me, which was very like fear. "My father has since owned to me, that if it had not been for my uncle's words, which caused a certain false shame in him, he would have sent me home or given my horse to one of the servants; but what an example for a boy of my age, who declared himself to have no fear, and what a subject for ridicule to my uncle. "I continued, then, to ride my pony; we reached the warren, and the chase commenced. "While it lasted, the pleasures made us forget the prediction; but the chase over, and having started on our road home-- "'Well, Clement,' said my uncle, 'still on your pony; you are a brave boy.' "My father and I both laughed; we were then crossing a plain as flat and even as this room--no obstacles in the way, nothing that could frighten a horse, yet at that moment my pony gave a bound which shook me from my seat, then he reared violently, and threw me off; my uncle laughed, but my father became as pale as death. I did not move, and my father leaped from his horse and came to me, and found that my leg was broken.