Giorgio stopped his work. He bowed to the man as if he were a king or a cardinal. Then in his excitement he began scratching the donkey, kneading down the dark stripe along her back. He took a breath, listening.
"I have heard of your skill in racing, and...." Signor Ramalli paused to let the full weight of his words take meaning. "I propose that you ride for me."
The boy's heart seemed to stop altogether, then hammered wildly against his chest. Speechless, he waited for more.
"Yes," the man was saying, "I propose that you ride for me in the little races in the provinces."
Giorgio felt suddenly as if he had been dropped into a well. "Wh-wh-where?" he stammered, hoping he had misunderstood.
"In the nearby small towns—in Asciano, in Montalcino, in Poggibonsi, and others. You can continue to work on your father's farm, and come away only on festival days. And you will not need to bother with special racing costume."
Signor Ramalli came forward, and now he too began ruffling Pippa's mane. "Does it not please you?" he asked.
Giorgio blushed, trying to hide his disappointment. In his mind he could hear his father saying, "All in one day Rome was not built! Time it takes to build a city; and time, too, to build a man."
Everything was quiet, except for Pippa's teeth grinding the grain to a mealy mush.
At last Giorgio nodded soberly and replied in a voice he hardly knew as his own. "Grazie, Signor Ramalli, I will ride for you."