Here, then, we found the equerry again, consumed by anxiety. He leapt
forward to greet me, addressing me by the old title of Madonnino which I
loved to hear from him, however much that title might otherwise arouse
harsh and gloomy memories.
Here at Bologna Galeotto announced that he would be forced to rest, and we
slept for three hours--until night had closed in. We were shaken out of
our slumbers by the host as he had been ordered; but even then I lay
entranced, my limbs refusing their office, until the memory of what was at
issue acted like a spur upon me, and caused me to fling my weariness aside
as if it had been a cloak.
Galeotto, however, was in a deplorable case. He could not move a limb. He
was exhausted--utterly and hopelessly exhausted with fatigue and want of
sleep. Falcone and I pulled him to his feet between us; but he collapsed
again, unable to stand.
"I am spent," he muttered. "Give me twelve hours--twelve hours' sleep,
Agostino, and I'll ride with you to the Devil."
I groaned and cursed in one. "Twelve hours!" I cried. "And she...I can't
wait, Galeotto. I must ride on alone."
He lay on his back and stared up at me, and his eyes had a glassy stare.
Then he roused himself by an effort, and raised himself upon his elbow.
"That is it, boy--ride on alone.
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