'Mallecho,' he whispered as he caressed the horse, 'this is a great
day--we must win!'
His trainer, a little red-faced man, who was engaged in scrutinising the
other horses as they were led past by their grooms, answered in his
rough husky voice,--'There's no doubt but you will!'
Miching Mallecho was a superb bay from the stables of the Baron de
Soubeyran, and combined extreme elegance of build with extraordinary
strength of muscle. His fine and shining coat, under which the tracery
of veins was distinctly visible on chest and flank, seemed almost to
exhale a fiery vapour, so intense was the creature's vitality. A
splendid jumper, he had often carried his master in the hunting-field
over every obstacle of the Roman countryside, irrespective of the nature
of the ground, never refusing the highest gate, the most forbidding
wall, for ever at the tail of the hounds. A word from his rider had more
effect on him than the spur, a caress made him quiver with delight.
Before mounting, Andrea carefully examined every strap and buckle, then
with a smile he vaulted into the saddle. As he watched his master move
away the trainer expressed his confidence in an eloquent gesture.
A crowd of bettors pressed round the indicator. Andrea felt that every
eye was upon him. Gazing eagerly at the stand to the right, he tried to
catch sight of Ippolita Albonico, but could distinguish no one among the
multitude of ladies.
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