Their approach was perceptible--the breath of it was as a distant muttering which increased at every second.

The whole crowd had thrown themselves impetuously against the barriers, and a deep clamor issued from innumerable chests before the advance of the horses and drew nearer and nearer like the sound of a foaming tide.

It was the last fierce outburst of colossal partisanship; a hundred thousand spectators were possessed by a single passion, burning with the same gambler's lust, as they gazed after the beasts, whose galloping feet were sweeping millions with them.

The crowd pushed and crushed--fists were clenched; people gaped, openmouthed; every man was fighting for himself; every man with voice and gesture was madly speeding the horse of his choice.

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.