The Chief wiped his face tiredly. "I do not know, truly. Perhaps the hope is in me, too. Perhaps the hope is stronger than the reality. I fear, Giorgio," he said again, "the Palio is not going to be as we dreamed it."
"Signore! Shake yourself!" Giorgio's anger turned to wild appeal. His words tumbled out bravely, recklessly. "Something we can do! Something we must do! Think!" He took hold of the man's sleeve, actually shaking him in his eagerness.
The Chief closed his eyes thoughtfully. "What comes to mind," he said at last, "is a very simple plan. Maybe too simple."
"Tell me! Tell me!"
Something of the old vigor crept into the Chief's voice. "Listen well, my boy. In the trials when the horses are selected, you must make Gaudenzia appear mature, sensible; an average beast."
Giorgio nodded, listening with every fiber.
"And in her workouts she must appear tranquil."
"That is easy! Easy! What else?"
"Wherever you make talk, you must say how her dam was a poor old farm horse and how she herself was a cart horse for many years, and her colts were nothing at all, good only for the slaughterhouse."
"I will!"