Ennsbauer had been notified of the Imperial disposition and became more assiduous than ever. Florian was also afire with ambition, as if aware of what was to follow. The equerry came often, and from day to day his amazement grew. “Bravo, Ennsbauer!” he praised. “This will be your masterpiece.” Ennsbauer thanked him mutely. He refused to give his superior the satisfaction of showing his pleasure. You could never tell. One fine morning Florian might forget all that he had learned and slip back into the beginner’s stage. It was possible for the horse to get the colic or to suffer some other mishap that would incapacitate him for days and possibly weeks. Everything was possible. And Ennsbauer had a superstitious fear of every eventuality; he believed only in the good fortune of the moment. Once he rebuked Anton because of Bosco. “Since when has the dog been sleeping in Florian’s stall?” “Always.” “This must stop! Do you hear me?” he roared. “Merciful God!” said Anton, on the verge of tears, “then we’ll have our cross to bear with Florian.”
