She looked. Suddenly she came to her feet with a cry of delight, and ran
out towards the horse. There was something essentially child-like in
her, something also painfully wild-an animal, and a philosopher, and
twenty-three.

Jacques put out his hand as he had done with Mademoiselle Cerise.

"No, no; he is savage."

"Nonsense!" she rejoined, and came closer.

Gaston watched, interested. He guessed what she would do.

"A horse!" she added. "Why, you have seen my lions! Leave him free:
stand away from him."

Her words were peremptory, and Jacques obeyed. The horse stood alone,
a hoof pawing the ground. Presently it sprang away, then half-turned
towards the girl, and stood still. She kept talking to him and calling
softly, making a coaxing, animal-like sound, as she always did with her
lions.

She stepped forward a little and paused. The horse suddenly turned
straight towards her, came over slowly, and, with arched neck, dropped
his head on her shoulder. She felt the folds of his neck and kissed him.
He followed her about the garden like a dog. She brought him to Gaston,
locked up, and said with a teasing look, "I have conquered him: he is
mine!"

Gaston looked her in her eyes. "He is yours."