His Japanese mare, of slender make, full of fire and vigor, is black as night.A narrow red cloth serves instead of saddle.To moderate the impetuous bounds of the animal, Djalma uses a small steel bit, with headstall and reins of twisted scarlet silk, fine as a thread.
Not one of those admirable riders, sculptured so masterly on the frieze of the Parthenon, sits his horse more gracefully and proudly than this young Indian, whose fine face, illumined by the setting sun, is radiant with serene happiness; his eyes sparkle with joy, and his dilated nostrils and unclosed lips inhale with delight the balmy breeze, that brings to him the perfume of flowers and the scent of fresh leaves, for the trees are still moist from the abundant rain that fell after the storm.
A red cap, similar to that worn by the Greeks, surmounting the black locks of Djalma, sets off to advantage the golden tint of his complexion;
his throat is bare; he is clad in his robe of white muslin with large sleeves, confined at the waist by a scarlet sash; very full drawers, in white cotton stuff, leave half uncovered his tawny and polished legs;
their classic curve stands out from the dark sides of the horse, which he presses tightly between his muscular calves.He has no stirrups; his foot, small and narrow, is shod with a sandal of morocco leather.
The rush of his thoughts, by turns impetuous and restrained, was expressed in some degree by the pace he imparted to his horse--now bold and precipitate, like the flight of unbridled imagination--now calm and measured, like the reflection which succeeds an idle dream.But, in all this fantastic course, his least movements were distinguished by a proud, independent and somewhat savage grace.