And
the cry of all this multitude, a wild beast's cry despite the garb of
civilization, grew ever more distinct:
"Here they come! Here they come! Here they come!"
But Nana was still gaining ground, and now Valerio II was distanced,
and she was heading the race, with Spirit two or three necks behind. The
rolling thunder of voices had increased. They were coming in; a storm of
oaths greeted them from the landau.
"Gee up, Lusignan, you great coward! The Englishman's stunning! Do it
again, old boy; do it again! Oh, that Valerio! It's sickening! Oh, the
carcass! My ten louis damned well lost! Nana's the only one! Bravo,
Nana! Bravo!"
And without being aware of it Nana, upon her seat, had begun jerking her
hips and waist as though she were racing herself. She kept striking
her side--she fancied it was a help to the filly. With each stroke she
sighed with fatigue and said in low, anguished tones:
"Go it, go it!"
Then a splendid sight was witnessed. Price, rising in his stirrups
and brandishing his whip, flogged Nana with an arm of iron. The old
shriveled-up child with his long, hard, dead face seemed to breath
flame. And in a fit of furious audacity and triumphant will he put his
heart into the filly, held her up, lifted her forward, drenched in
foam, with eyes of blood.
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