Bellarion the Fortunate

by Rafael Sabatini

'Ha! A great hulking bull of a man.'

'You describe him. He charges like a bull. He bore off the prize that day against all comers. The Lord of Genestra had his thigh broken by him.'

'So, so!' said Bellarion, very thoughtful. 'It's my neck he means to break to-morrow. I read it in his smile.'

'A swaggerer,' said Stoffel. 'He'll take a heavy fall one day.'

'Unfortunately that day is not to-morrow.'

'Are you to ride against him, then?' There was concern in Stoffel's voice.

'So he believes. But I don't. I have a feeling that to-morrow I shall not be in case to ride against any one. I have a fever coming on: the result of hardships suffered on the way from Travo. Nature will compel me, I suspect, to keep my bed to-morrow.'

Stoffel considered him with grave eyes. 'Are you afraid?'

'What else?'

'And you confess it?'