am a coward like the rest, and when I tell you that I despise all
men, do not believe that I make an exception in my own favor."

And at these words he drove the spurs into his horse's flank so
violently that the fiery chestnut, irritated by the rude attack,
kicked and pranced. Stephane subdued him by the sole power of his
haughty and menacing voice; then exciting him again, he launched
him forward at full speed and amused himself by suddenly bringing
him up with a jerk of the rein, and by turns making him dance and
plunge; then urging him across the road he made him clear at a
bound, the ditch and hedge which bordered it. After several
minutes of this violent exercise, he trotted away, followed by his
inseparable Ivan, leaving Gilbert to his reflections, which were
not the most agreeable.

He had experienced in talking with Stephane an uneasiness, a secret
trouble which had never oppressed him before. The passionate
character of this young man, the rudeness of his manners, in which
a free savage grace mingled, the exaggeration of his language,
betraying the disorder of an ill-governed mind, the rapidity with
which his impressions succeeded each other, the natural sweetness
of his voice, the caressing melody of which was disturbed by loud
exclamations and rude and harsh accents; his gray eyes turning
nearly black and flashing fire in a paroxysm of anger or emotion;
the contrast between the nobility and distinction of his face and
bearing, and the arrogant scorn of proprieties in which he seemed
to delight--in short, some painful mystery written upon his
forehead and betrayed in his smile--all gave Gilbert much to
speculate upon and troubled him profoundly. The aversion he had at
first felt for Stephane had changed to pity since the poor child