While Brummel and Carbonilla, fatigued by the heaviness of the ground, began to lose the pace, Mallecho steadily increased the vehemence of his rush and had nearly reconquered his former position, scenting victory already with his fiery nostrils.

Flying over the last obstacle, he passed Brummel--his head was level with Carbonilla's shoulder--a hundred yards from the post he skirted the barrier--on--on--leaving Caligaro's black mare ten lengths behind.

The bell rang--a furious clapping of hands, like the pelting of hail-stones, and then a dull roar spread through the great crowd on the green sward under the flood of brilliant sunshine.
As he entered the enclosure, Andrea Sperelli thought to himself--'Fortune is with me to-day, but how will it be to-morrow ?' And feeling the breath of triumph surge round him, a vague sense of resentment rose up in him against the possibilities of the morrow.

He would have preferred to face it to-day and get it over, that he might enjoy a double victory and then taste the fruit offered to him by the hand of Ippolita Albonico.

He was possessed, for the moment, by that inexplicable intoxication which results--with certain men of intellect--from the exercise of their physical powers, the experience of their courage and the revelation of their inherent brutality.