Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [190]
La Faloise, almost crying, was struggling to get to a bookmaker. The others had to reason with him. All the necks were stretched out. But the first start was not a good one; the starter, who in the distance looked like a thin black stick, had not lowered his red flag. The horses returned to the post after a short gallop. There were two other false starts. At length the starter, getting the horses all well together, sent them off with a skill that won admiration on all sides.
“Magnificent start!”—“No, it is chance!”—“Never mind, they’re off!”
The noise died away in the anxiety which filled every breast. Now, the betting ceased; the game was being played on the immense course. Complete silence reigned at last, as though all breathing was suspended. Faces were raised, white and trembling. At the start Hasard and Cosinus had made the running, leading all the others. Valerio II. followed close behind them; the rest came on in a confused mass. When they passed in front of the stands, shaking the earth, and with the sudden gust of wind caused by their immense speed, the group had stretched out to fully forty lengths. Frangipane was last. Nana was a little behind Lusignan and Spirit.
“The deuce!” murmured Labordette; “the English one is picking his way well through them!”
Everyone in the landau had something to say—some excla mation to utter. All stood upon tiptoe, and watched intently the bright colours of the jockeys borne along in the sunshine. As they ascended the incline, Valerio II. took the lead. Cosinus and Hasard were losing ground, whilst Lusignan and Spirit, neck and neck, were still followed closely by Nana.
“Damn it! the English horse has won, that’s quite plain,” said Bordenave. “Lusignan is tiring, and Valerio II. can’t stay.”
“Well! it is disgusting if the English horse wins!” exclaimed Philippe, in a burst of patriotic grief.
A feeling of anguish gradually overwhelmed that mob of people. Another defeat! And a wish of extraordinary ardour, amounting almost to a prayer, for Lusignan’s success was inwardly expressed by all; whilst they abused Spirit and his funereal-looking jockey. The crowd, scattered over the grass, broke up into bands who were running with all their might. Horsemen galloped swiftly over the ground. And Nana, turning slowly round, beheld at her feet that surging mob of men and animals—that sea of heads looking as though dashed about and carried along the course by the vortex of the race, streaking the bright horizon of the jockeys. She watched the fast-stepping legs, which, as the distance increased, assumed the slenderness of hairs. Now, at the farthest limit of the circle, she saw them sideways, looking so small and slight against the green background of the Bois. Then suddenly they disappeared behind a large cluster of trees close to the course.
“Don’t despair!” cried George, still full of hope. “It’s not over yet. The English horse is caught.”
But La Faloise, again overcome by his disdain for the national cause, became quite scandalous in his applause of Spirit. Bravo! it served them right! France was in need of the lesson! Spirit first, and Frangipane second! it would aggravate his fatherland! Labordette, whom he thoroughly exasperated, seriously threatened to throw him out of the carriage.
“We’ll see how long they take,” quietly observed Bordenave, who, with little Louis on his shoulder, had pulled out his watch.
One by one the horses reappeared from behind the clump of trees. Then the crowd uttered a long murmur of amazement. Valerio II. still had the lead, but Spirit was gaining on him, and Lusignan, who was next, had given way, whilst another horse was taking his place. The spectators could not understand it at first; they mixed up the colours. Exclamations arose on all sides.
“But it is Nana!”—“Nana? absurd! I tell you Lusignan still keeps his place.”—“Yes, it is, though, it is Nana! It is easy