“That is the horse,” and Owen pointed to a big chestnut.  “The third horse—­orange and white sleeves, black cap ... they are going now for the preliminary canter.  We shall have just time to back him.  There is a Pari Mutuel a little way down the course; or shall we back the horse in the ring?  No, it is too late to get across the course.  The Pari Mutuel will do.  Isn’t the racecourse like an English lawn, like an overgrown croquet ground? and the horses go round by these plantations.”

It was not fashionable, he admitted, for a lady to leave her carriage, but no one knew her.  It did not matter, and the spectacle amused her.  But there was only time to catch a glimpse of beautiful toilettes, actresses and princesses, and the young men standing on the steps of the carriages.  Owen whispered the names of the most celebrated, and told her she should know them when she was on the stage.  At present it would be better for her to live quietly—­unknown; her lessons would take all her time.  He talked as he hastened her towards where a crowd had collected.  She saw what looked like a small omnibus, with a man distributing tickets.  Owen took five louis out of her purse and handed them to the man, who in return handed her a ticket.  They would see the race better from their carriage, but it was pleasanter to stroll about the warm grass and admire the little woods which surrounded this elegant pleasure-ground, the white painted stands with all their flags flying on the blue summer air, the glitter of the carriages, the colour of the parasols, the bright jackets and caps of the jockeys, the rhythmical movement of the horses.  Some sailed along with their heads low, others bounded, their heads high in the air.  While Owen watched Evelyn’s pleasure, his face expressed a cynical good humour.  He was glad she was pleased, and he was flattered that he was influencing her.  No longer was she wasting her life, the one life which she had to live.  He was proud of his disciple, and he delighted in her astonishment, when, having made sure that Armide II. had won, he led her back to the Pari Mutuel, and, bidding her hold out her hands, saw that forty louis were poured into them.

Then Evelyn could not believe that she was in her waking senses, and it took some time to explain to her how she had won so much money; and when she asked why all the poor people did not come and do likewise, since it was so easy, Owen said that he had had more sport seeing her win five and thirty louis than he had when he won the gold cup at Ascot.  It almost inclined him to go in for racing again.  Evelyn could not understand the circumstance and, still explaining the odds, he told the coachman that they would not wait for the last race.  He had tied her forty louis into her pocket-handkerchief, and feeling the weight of the gold in her hand she leant back in the victoria, lost in the bright, penetrating happiness of that summer evening.  Paris, graceful and indolent—­Paris returning through a whirl of wheels, through pleasure-grounds, green swards and long, shining roads—­instilled a fever of desire into the blood, and the soul cried that life should be made wholly of such light distraction.