"Let me try it once, Mr. Finn," said Madame
Goesler in her quiet way.
She was riding a small horse, very nearly thoroughbred, and known as
a perfect hunter by those who habitually saw Madame Goesler ride.
No doubt he would have taken the fence readily enough had his rider
followed immediately after Lord Chiltern; but Dandolo had baulked at
the fence nearly a dozen times, and evil communications will corrupt
good manners. Without any show of violence, but still with persistent
determination, Madame Goesler's horse also declined to jump. She put
him at it again and again, and he would make no slightest attempt to
do his business. Phineas raging, fuming, out of breath, miserably
unhappy, shaking his reins, plying his whip, rattling himself about
in the saddle, and banging his legs against the horse's sides, again
and again plunged away at the obstacle. But it was all to no purpose.
Dandolo was constantly in the ditch, sometimes lying with his side
against the bank, and had now been so hustled and driven that, had he
been on the other side, he would have had no breath left to carry his
rider, even in the ruck of the hunt.
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