The Marchesa d'Ateleta, who had heard of the
quarrel, made him a sign of reproof from afar.
'How is the betting on Mallecho?' he asked of Ludovico Barbarisi.
As he moved towards the starting-post, he reflected calmly on the means
he would employ for winning, and considered his three rivals critically,
calculating the strength and science of each of them. Paolo Caligaro was
a tricky devil, as thoroughly versed in all the knavery of the stable as
any jockey; but Carbonilla, although fast, had little staying power. The
Duke di Beffi, a rider of the 'haute ecole' style, who had come off
victorious in more than one race in England, was mounted on an animal of
uncertain temper which would probably refuse some of the jumps.
Giannetto Rutolo, on the contrary, was riding a well-bred and
well-trained horse, but though he was a very capable rider he was too
impetuous; moreover, this was the first time he had taken part in a
public race. Besides, he must be in a terrible state of nervous
irritation, as was apparent from numerous signs.
As he looked at him, Andrea thought to himself--'I have no doubt that my
victory to-day would influence the course of the duel to-morrow. In both
instances, he will lose his head--it behoves me to keep calm on both
fields----' Then--'I wonder what Donna Ippolita feels about it?' There
seemed to be an unusual silence round about him.
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