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- 992
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 919
- text
- I.
On the previous evening, Pierre had arranged with Lucy the plan of a
long winding ride, among the hills which stretched around to the
southward from the wide plains of Saddle-Meadows.
Though the vehicle was a sexagenarian, the animals that drew it, were
but six-year colts. The old phaeton had outlasted several generations of
its drawers.
Pierre rolled beneath the village elms in billowy style, and soon drew
up before the white cottage door. Flinging his reins upon the ground he
entered the house.
The two colts were his particular and confidential friends; born on the
same land with him, and fed with the same corn, which, in the form of
Indian-cakes, Pierre himself was often wont to eat for breakfast. The
same fountain that by one branch supplied the stables with water, by
another supplied Pierre's pitcher. They were a sort of family cousins to
Pierre, those horses; and they were splendid young cousins; very showy
in their redundant manes and mighty paces, but not at all vain or
arrogant. They acknowledged Pierre as the undoubted head of the house of
Glendinning. They well knew that they were but an inferior and
subordinate branch of the Glendinnings, bound in perpetual feudal fealty
to its headmost representative. Therefore, these young cousins never
permitted themselves to run from Pierre; they were impatient in their
paces, but very patient in the halt. They were full of good-humor too,
and kind as kittens.
"Bless me, how can you let them stand all alone that way, Pierre," cried
Lucy, as she and Pierre stepped forth from the cottage door, Pierre
laden with shawls, parasol, reticule, and a small hamper.
"Wait a bit," cried Pierre, dropping his load; "I will show you what my
colts are."
So saying, he spoke to them mildly, and went close up to them, and
patted them. The colts neighed; the nigh colt neighing a little
jealously, as if Pierre had not patted impartially. Then, with a low,
long, almost inaudible whistle, Pierre got between the colts, among the
harness. Whereat Lucy started, and uttered a faint cry, but Pierre told
her to keep perfectly quiet, for there was not the least danger in the
world. And Lucy did keep quiet; for somehow, though she always started
when Pierre seemed in the slightest jeopardy, yet at bottom she rather
cherished a notion that Pierre bore a charmed life, and by no earthly
possibility could die from her, or experience any harm, when she was
within a thousand leagues.
Pierre, still between the horses, now stepped upon the pole of the
phaeton; then stepping down, indefinitely disappeared, or became
partially obscured among the living colonnade of the horses' eight
slender and glossy legs. He entered the colonnade one way, and after a
variety of meanderings, came out another way; during all of which
equestrian performance, the two colts kept gayly neighing, and
good-humoredly moving their heads perpendicularly up and down; and
sometimes turning them sideways toward Lucy; as much as to say--We
understand young master; we understand him, Miss; never fear, pretty
lady: why, bless your delicious little heart, we played with Pierre
before you ever did.
"Are you afraid of their running away now, Lucy?" said Pierre, returning
to her.
"Not much, Pierre; the superb fellows! Why, Pierre, they have made an
officer of you--look!" and she pointed to two foam-flakes epauletting
his shoulders. "Bravissimo again! I called you my recruit, when you left
my window this morning, and here you are promoted."
"Very prettily conceited, Lucy. But see, you don't admire their coats;
they wear nothing but the finest Genoa velvet, Lucy. See! did you ever
see such well-groomed horses?"
"Never!"
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