She was shown the Royal pavilion being got
ready for the King and Queen, the weighing room of the jockeys, the
paddock and temporary stables of the horses that were to race that
day. Here was a celebrated actress in a magnificent lace dress and
a superb hat, walking up and down on the sun-burnt, trodden turf, in
a devil of a temper. Her horse--for with her lovers' money she kept
a racing stable--had been scratched for the race--I really can't
tell you why, not having been able to study all the _minutiae_ of
racing. [Talking of that, _how_ annoying it is--or was--when
one cared about things of great moment, to take up an evening
newspaper's last edition and read in large type "Official
Scratchings," with a silly algebraic formula underneath about horses
being withdrawn from some race, when you thought it was a bear fight
in the Cabinet.] Vivie gathered from her guide that to-day would be
rather a special Derby, because it did not often happen that a
King-Emperor was there to see a horse from his own racing stables
running in the classic race.
Then, thanking the pleasant soldier-peer for his information, Vivie
(David Williams) left him to his duties as equerry and member of the
Jockey-Club and entered the dense crowd on either side of the race
course. It reminded her just slightly of Frith's Derby Day. There
were the gypsies, the jugglers, the acrobats, the costers with their
provision barrows; the grooms and stable hands; the beggars and
obvious pick-pockets; the low-down harlots--the high-up ones were
already entering the seats of the Grand Stand or sitting on the
four-in-hand coaches or in the open landaulettes and Silent Knights.
Pages:
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328