"He'll be lucky if he isn't hurt," said some one.
"Why doesn't he give it the whip over its quarters?" said another.
But David Rossi only patted his horse until it came to the spot where it had shied before. Then he reached over its neck on the side of the broken rein, and with open hand struck it sharply across the nose. The horse reared, snorted, and jumped, and at the next moment it was standing quietly on the other side of the wall.
Roma, on her bay mare, was ashen pale, and the American Ambassador turned to her and said:
"Never knew but one man to do a thing like that, Donna Roma."
Roma swallowed something in her throat and said: "Who was it, General Potter?"
"The present Pope when he was a Noble Guard."
"He can ride, by Jove!" said Don Camillo.
"That sort of stuff has to be in a man's blood. Born in him—must be!" said the Englishman.
And then David Rossi came up with a new bridle to his sorrel, and Sir Evelyn added: "You handle a horse like a man who began early, Mr. Rossi."