The betting was but slight, in odd contrast with the hubbub and
striking clamor of English betting rings; the only approach to anything
like "real business" being transacted between the members of the
Household and those of the Jockey Clubs. Iffesheim was pure pleasure,
like every other item of Baden existence, and all aristocratic,
sparkling, rich, amusement-seeking Europe seemed gathered there under
the sunny skies, and on everyone's lips in the titled throng was but one
name--Forest King's. Even the coquettish bouquet-sellers, who remembered
the dresses of his own colors which Cecil had given them last year when
he had won the Rastadt, would sell nothing except little twin scarlet
and white moss rosebuds; of which thousands were gathered and died that
morning in honor of the English Guards' champion.
A slender event usually, the presence of the renowned crack of the
Household Cavalry made the Prix de Dames the most eagerly watched-for
entry on the card; and the rest of the field were scarcely noticed as
the well-known gold-embroidered jacket came up at the starting-post.
The King saw that blaze of light and color over course and stands that
he knew so well by this time; he felt the pressure round him of his
foreign rivals as they reared and pulled and fretted and passaged; the
old longing quivered in all his eager limbs, the old fire wakened in all
his dauntless blood; like the charger at sound of the trumpet-call, he
lived in his past victories, and was athirst for more.
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