Helena longed to escape, for the scene filled her with horror. She had
never witnessed the raging of a natural instinct in a living body.
This uncontrolled outbreak terrified her.

She wanted to run after her mare and drag her away by force, but she
was afraid of the savage stallion. She wanted to call for help, but
she was loath to attract other eyewitnesses. She turned her back to
the scene and decided to wait.

The sound of horses' hoofs came from the direction of the highroad; a
carriage appeared in sight.

There was no escape; although she was ashamed to stay where she was,
it was too late now to run away, for the horses were slowing down and
the carriage stopped a few yards in front of her.

"How beautiful!" exclaimed one of the occupants of the carriage, a
lady, and raised her golden lorgnette so as to get a better view of
the spectacle.

"But why are we stopping?" retorted the other, irritably. "Drive on!"

"Don't you think it beautiful?" asked the elder lady.

The coachman's smile was lost in his great beard, as he urged the
horses on.

"You are such a prude, my dear Milly," said the first voice. "To me
this kind of thing is like a thunderstorm, or a heavy sea...."