Florian by Felix Salten

Author:Felix Salten
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

Chapter Twenty

A WRITTEN ORDER HAD ARRIVED from the equerry, whereupon Ennsbauer mustered the horses.

“He, of course,” he decided, stopping in front of Florian, “is the outstanding one. In fact he would be best alone.”

Wary and full of fears ever since the affair with the Archduke, Anton listened. What was in store for Florian?

“He has been working here for three years now,” Ennsbauer spoke while he stroked Florian’s forehead, “which isn’t very much, really. But with him it is equal to five years of ordinary work. His time has come.”

Anton was terrified.

But when he learned that Florian was to return to Lipizza to be mated, to have offspring, he breathed easily. Intoxicating joy swept through him when Ennsbauer answered his timid question bruskly. “Of course, you ass, you’ll have to go along. You and this beast of a dog. You three are inseparable.”

During the days leading up to the time of departure, Anton showered Florian and Bosco with tender discourses.

Everything had awakened in Anton. The four years they had spent together at the place of Florian’s birth, childhood and youth, the carefree existence, the wide meadows, the invigorating, salt-laden air that wafted over from the sea. . . . In his dull brain these memories began to seethe. To return there was a homecoming. It was even a triumph, for Florian returned crowned with laurels. Anton’s early dreams had all come true.

For hours he held Florian’s head in his arms, his mouth pressed to Florian’s twitching ears, and whispered: “Lipizza! Do you remember? Lipizza! A baby you were! A lovely, helpless little fellow! Do you remember? You were hardly born when the national anthem was played! Do you remember? And today Emperors and Kings know you. Now we are going back to Lipizza. Lipizza, dear Florian! Do you understand? Lipizza!”

Patiently Florian listened to the tender words, moved his delicate ears, while his eyes shone opalescent in the semi-obscurity of the stable. Anton would have sworn an oath that Florian knew the meaning of every word, and that Bosco did also.

He lifted Bosco, pressed him to his breast and whispered to him: “We’re going to Lipizza, Bosco. In Lipizza we shall be together again. Isn’t that nice? You will recognize the meadows and the trees and everything . . . you will be happy, won’t you? Won’t you, Bosco, my little one?”

Bosco wagged so vigorously during this speech that his tail beat sharply against Anton’s hip. He stretched and turned his tapering head, and washed Anton’s smooth face with his tongue. Then he yawned, bashful with enthusiasm, and comprehending the question by its melody, he launched into a long drawn out yowling that sounded both mournful and gay.

On the meadows of Lipizza Florian at first stood stunned. Years had passed and he had known nothing, had seen nothing, except the short distance over the cobbled ground from the stable to the Riding School; had never breathed any air other than that in the old courtyard where during the summer months he had been exercised, mornings.

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