"No, madame," I said, smiling, "I will not wait a minute; if I am to be your bailiff I must look after your affairs." "Madame," said old Alain, who had come in, "M. Odiot could have _le père Hivart’s_ old gig; it is not on springs, but it’s all the more solid for that." Mme. Laroque darted a withering glance at the miserable Alain for daring to suggest _le père Hivart’s_ gig to an agent who had been to the Grand Duchess Hélène’s theatricals. "Wouldn’t the buggy be able to do it, Alain?" she asked. "The buggy, madame? Oh, no! I don’t believe it could get into the lane, and if it did, it would certainly not come out whole." I declared that I could walk easily. "No, no," declared Mme. Laroque; "that’s impossible. I couldn’t allow it. Let me see ... We have half a dozen horses here doing nothing; but perhaps you don’t ride?" "Oh, I ride, but—you really need not—I am going to——" "Alain, get a horse saddled for M. Odiot.... Which do you suggest, Marguerite?" "Give him Proserpine," whispered M. de Bévallan maliciously. "Oh, no! not Proserpine," declared Marguerite. "And why not Proserpine?" I asked. "Because she’d throw you," said the girl frankly. "Oh, would she? Really? May I ask, mademoiselle, if you ride her?" "Yes, I do, but she gives me some trouble." "Oh, well, perhaps she’ll give you less when I’ve ridden her once or twice! That decides me. Have Proserpine saddled, Alain." Mlle. Marguerite’s dark eyebrows contracted as she sat down with a gesture that disclaimed all responsibility for the catastrophe she foresaw. "If you want spurs," said M. de Bévallan, who evidently did not mean me to return alive, "I have a pair at your service." Without appearing to notice Mlle. Marguerite’s reproachful look at the obliging gentleman, I accepted his offer. Five minutes later a frantic scuffling announced the approach of Proserpine, who was brought with some difficulty to one of the flights of steps under the private garden. She was a fine half-bred, as black as jet. I at once went down the perron. Some kind people, with M. de Bévallan at their head, followed me to the terrace—from motives of humanity, no doubt—and at the same time the three windows of the _salon_ were opened for the use of the women and old men. I would willingly have dispensed with all this publicity, but it could not be helped, and besides, I had very little anxiety about the result of this adventure. I might be a very young land agent, but I was an old horseman. I could scarcely walk when my father put me upon a horse—to my mother’s great alarm—and afterward he took the greatest pains to render me his equal in an art in which he excelled. Indeed, he had carried my training to the verge of extravagance, sometimes making me put on the heavy ancestral armour to perform my feats of equitation.