Giannetto Rutolo heard this forecast with a bitter pang. He had founded
a vague hope on the event of his own victory. He represented to himself
the advantage he might gain over his enemy by a victorious race and a
successful duel. As he changed his clothes his every movement betrayed
his preoccupation.
'Here is a man who before getting on horseback sees the grave open
before him,' said the duke, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder
with a serio-comic air--'_Ecce homo novus_.'
Andrea Sperelli, who felt in the best of spirits at that moment, gave
vent to one of those frank bursts of laughter which were the most
engaging trait of his youth.
'What are you laughing at?' demanded Rutolo, lividly pale, glaring at
him from under frowning brows.
'It seems to me, my dear fellow,' returned Sperelli unmoved 'that you
are a little out of temper----'
'And if I am?'
'You are at liberty to think what you like about my laughing.'
'Then I think it is idiotic.'
Sperelli bounded to his feet and made a stride forward with uplifted
whip. By a miracle, Paolo Caligaro managed to catch his arm. Violent
words followed. Don Marc Antonio Spada appeared upon the scene and heard
the altercation.
'That's enough, boys--you both know what you have to do
to-morrow--you've got to ride now.'
The two adversaries finished their dressing in silence and then went
out.
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