The applause was like a volcano erupting, like a crashing of thunder, like a dike opened in flood time. Giorgio forgot he was at the head table with all the dignitaries. He rose to his feet shouting "Bravissima!" with the populace; "Bravissima, Gaudenzia, the Queen!"
When the roar and thunder subsided, the General grew serious. "The time has come," he said thoughtfully, earnestly, "to reflect upon the ancient yet always new spectacle of the Palio. Already the victory of July seems far away, and already we know the noble results of the August Palio. But," he leaned toward the multitude, his eyes glistening, "in nine months and twenty-nine days the yellow-ochre earth will again cover the cobbles of the Piazza, and again memory and hope will kindle the massive heart of Siena. This Palio is forever written into the archives. Now we turn to a new page."
The victory feast was ended. The band players were striking up once more the sweet, haunting "March of the Palio." People were running toward the banner to kiss it in homage. The waiters were clearing the tables. The barbaresco was leading Gaudenzia away. Giorgio gave the man his moment of glory. Tomorrow would be time enough to call for her from the fine stable of Onda and walk her back home to the Maremma. Yes, tomorrow would be time enough....
The echo of drums accompanied Giorgio as he walked down into the city for a last look at Il Campo. A harvest moon bulged out from behind the Mangia Tower, washing the palaces in a pale red glow. He listened a while to the fountain playing its tinkly tune in the vastness.
"Nine months and twenty-nine days is not so very far away, he thought. "Why, that is less time than it takes a mare to foal a colt!"
