'Fix it all by this evening. To-morrow by one o'clock I absolutely must
be free. But let me sleep till nine to-morrow morning. I dine with the
Ferentinos, then I shall look in at the Palazzo Giustiniani, and after
that I shall go to the Club, but it will be late--You will know where to
find me. Many thanks, my dear fellows, and _a rividerci_.'
He repaired to the grand stand, but avoided approaching Donna Ippolita
at once. He smiled, feeling every feminine eye upon him. Many
a fair hand was held out, many a sweet voice called him
familiarly--'Andrea'--some of them even a little ostentatiously. The
ladies who had bet upon his horses told him the amount of their
winnings, others asked curiously if he were really going to fight.
It seemed to him that in one day he had reached the summit of
adventurous glory. He had come out victor in a record race, had gained
the graces of a new love, magnificent and serene as a Venetian
Dogaressa, had provoked a man to mortal combat and now was passing calm
and courteous--but neither more so nor less than usual--amid the openly
adoring smiles of all these fair women.
'See the conquering hero comes!' cried Ippolita's husband with
outstretched hand and pressing Andrea's with unusual warmth.
'Yes, indeed; quite a hero!' echoed Donna Ippolita in the superficial
tone of necessary compliment, affecting ignorance of the real drama.
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