The Chief pursed his lips, thinking. There was worry in his face as he mulled over the proposal. He had asked expressly for this meeting, had hoped earnestly that Giorgio would have the same desire to rescue the mare. But now he was appalled by the depth of the boy's emotion. He studied the slight figure, the young face so full of eager determination. What if the mare were beyond help? Was the boy's faith too high a price to pay? What would happen to him if he failed?
Their eyes met and held. Giorgio put out his hand and suddenly the Chief reached across the table and took it in a clasp so strong it seemed as if some unseen force were bringing them together. For a moment they both fell silent, tasting their dreams. Giorgio was living his day of triumph. He saw the Palio square alive with people, and heard voices crying the names of their contradas, but mostly they were screaming to a white mare, winging her in.
Still handfast, the Chief cried, "Forza! Forza!"
The waiter came running. "You call me?"
"No, no," the Chief laughed heartily. "We are in the Palio."
The waiter nodded in complete understanding. There was nothing surprising in this.
"Giorgio!" The Chief spoke now in whispered confidence. "No wonder Farfalla fails. Who wants 'butterfly' for horse? We change her name! I am a man very earthy. For me, Gaudenzia is the name I favor. It is strong like marching music. Gau-den-zia," he repeated softly, lingering over each syllable. "Joy-of-living. You like?"
"I like!"
The Chief squared his shoulders. "From this very moment," he said, "the destiny of the mare changes. She will get a new name, a new life!"
"Gau-den-zia, Gaudenzia." Slowly Giorgio tested it on his tongue. The happiness was almost beyond bearing.