THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
IN MEMORY OF
PAUL TURNER, U.S.M.C.R.
KILLED IN ACTION, SAIPAN
JUNE, 1944
c/vt-A.'*^.^-*-'*-^^ ■
KwUr oUUt
^m
jrfj-
The first A'wj.— Page ii6.
NOVELS
OF
GEORGE ELIOT.
VOL. V.
RO M OLA.
With Illustrations.
^l^^Z'kl^.
["i:
FLOKENCE.
^^fT YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUA RE.
R O M O L A
BY
GEORGE ELIOT
HARPER'S LIBRARY EDITION.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS.
»RANKLIN SQUARE.
Al
CONTENTS.
Proem ..Page 11
CmVPTER I.
The Shipwrecked Stranger 18
CHAPTER II.
A Breakfast for Love 31
CHAPTER III.
The Barbers Shop 35
CHAPTER IV.
First Impressions 45
CHAPTER V.
The BUnd Scholar and his Daughter 48
CHiU'TER VI.
Dawning Hopes 61
CHAPTER VII.
A Learned Squabble Id
CHAPTER VIII.
A Face in the Crowd -. 8]
CHAPTER IX.
A Man's Ransom 93
CHAPTER X.
Under the Plane-tree 99
CHAPTER XL
Tito's Dilemma 110
CHAPTER XII.
The Prize is nearly grasped 113
CHAPTER XIII.
The Shadow of Nemesis 124
CHAPTER XIV.
The Peasants' Fair , . 131
CHAPTER XV.
The Dying Message ..■ 144
613908
Vm CONTENTS.
riiArxER XVI.
A Florentine Joke Page 153
CHAl'TEU XVII.
Under the Loggia 1G4
CIIArTER XVIII.
The Portrait 170
CHAPTER XIX.
The Old Man's Hope 175
ClIAPTKR XX.
Tlie Day of the Betrothal 179
CILU'TER XXI.
Florence expects a Guest 188
CHAPTER XXII.
The Prisoners 10-t
CHAPTER XXIII.
After-thoughts 201
CHAPTER XXIV.
Inside the Duomo 20-t
CHAPTER XXV.
Outside tho Duomo 210
CHAPTER XXVI.
The Garment of Fear 214
CHAPTER XXVII.
The Young Wife 219
CIIAI'TER XXVIII.
The Painted Record 229
(CHAPTER XXIX.
A Moment of Triumph 233
CHAPTER XXX.
The Avenger's Secret 240
CHAPTER XXXI.
Fruit is Seed 248
CHAPTER XXXII.
A Revelation 253
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Biildasfiarre makes an Acquaintance 262
CHAPTER XXXIV.
No Place for Repentance 270
CHAPTER XXXV.
What l-lorcncc wai thinking of. 281
CONTENTS. H
CH^VPTEK XXXVI.
Ariadne discrowns herself. .....Page 284
CHAPTER XXXVII.
The Tabernacle unlocked 293
CHAPTER XXX\aiI.
The black Marks become Magical ^ 297
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A Supper in the Euceilai Gardens 303
CHAPTER XL.
An an-esting Voice , 319
CHAPTER XLI.
Coming back 326
CHAPTER XLII.
Romola in her Place 829
CHAPTER XLIII.
The unseen Madonna 336
CHAPTER XLIV.
The visible Madonna 342
CHAPTER XLV.
At the Barber's Shop 348
CHAPTER XLVI.
By a Street Lamp 35G
CHAPTER XLVII.
Check 364
CHAPTER XLVIIL
Counter-check 3G7
CHAPTER XLIX.
The PjTamid of Vanities 372
CHAPTER L.
Tessa Abroad and at Home 378
CHAPTER LI.
JHonna Brigida's Conversion 387
CHAPTER LII.
A Prophetess 392
CHAPTER LIII.
On San Miniato 398
CHAPTER LIV.
Tlie Evening and the Morning 403
'chapter LV.
Waiting ,. 400
1*
X CONTENTS.
CH A ITER LVI.
The Other Wife Page 409
CIIAPTKK LVI I.
Why Tito was Safe 420
CIIAl'TKll LVIII.
A Final Understanding 42G
CIIAITEK LIX.
Pleading 431
ClIAl'TEIl LX.
The Scaft'old 439
CILVPTEU LXI.
Drifting Away 445
CHArTEU LXI I.
The Benediction 450
CHAPTER LXI 1 1.
Kipennig Schemes 454
CHAPTER LXIV.
The Prophet in his Cell 4G5
CHAPTER LXV.
The Trial liy Fire 472
CHAPTER LXVI.
A Masque of the Furies 479
CHAPTER LXVI I.
"Waiting by the River 483
CHAPTER LXVIII.
Komola's Waking 489
CHAPTER LXIX.
Homeward 497
CHAPTER LXX.
Meeting Again SOO
CHAPTER LXXI.
The Confession C05
CHAPTER LXXII.
The Last Silence •''>11
Epilogue ^1*
ROMOLA.
PROEM.
More than three centuries and a half ago, in the mid springs
time of 1492, we are sure that the star-quenching angel of the
dawn, as he travelled with broad slow wing from the Levant to
the Pillars of Hercules, and from the summits of the Caucasus
across all the snowy Alpine ridges to the dark nakedness of
the western isles, saw nearly the same outline of firm land and
unstable sea — saw the same great mountain shadows on the
same valleys as he has seen to-day — saw olive mounts, and pine
forests, and the broad plains, green with young corn or rain-
freshened grass — saw the domes and spires of cities rising by
the river sides or mingled with the sedge-like masts on the
many-curved sea-coast, in the same spots where they rise to-
day. And as the faint light of his course pierced into the
dwellings of men, it fell, as now, on the rosy warmth of nestling
12 ROMOLA.
children ; on tho linijccarcl wakincj of sorrow and sicknoss ; on
the liasty uprisiny; ut tlu' hai il-haiuhMl liiljort.T : and on llie
late sleep of the uight-stiident, who liad been questioning tlic
stars or tlie sages, or liis own soul, for that hi(hlen knowledge
whicli ^vould break through the barrier of man's brief life, and
show its dark path that seemed to bend now liither, to be
an arc in an immeasurable circle of light and glory. The
great river-courses whicli have shaped the lives of men liave
hardly changed ; and those other streams, the life-currents that
ebb and flow in human hearts, pulsate to the same great needs,
the same great loves and terrors. As our thought follows
close in the slow wake of the dawn, we are impressed with the
broad sameness of the human lot, which never alters in the
main headings of its history — hunger and labor, seed-time and
liarvest, love and death.
Even if, instead of following the dim day-break, our imag-
ination pauses on a certain liistorical spot, and awaits the full-
er morning, we may see a world-famed city, which has hardly
changed its outline since the days of Columbus, seeming to
stand as an almost unviolated symbol, amidst the flux of hu-
man things, to remind us that we still resemble the men of the
]iast more than we differ from them, as the great mechanical
j)rineiples on which those domes and towers were raised must
make a likeness in human building that will be broader and
deeper than all possible change. And doubtless, if the spirit
of a Florentine citizen, whose eyes were closed for the last
time while Columbus was still waiting and arguing for tho
three poor vessels with which he was to set sail from the port
of l*alos, could return from the shades, and ])ause where our
thought is i)ausing, he would believe that there nuist still bo
fellowship and understanding for him among the inheritors of
his birth-j)lace.
Let us suppose that such a Shade lias been permitted to re-
visit the glim])ses of the golden morning, and is standing once
more on the famous hill of San IVIiniato, which overlooks
Florence from the south.
The Spirit is clothed in his habit as he lived ; the folds of his
well-lined l)lack silk garment or lucco hang in grnve, unbroken
lines from neck to ankle ; his plain cloth cap, with its becchetto
or long hanging strip of di-apery, to serve as a scarf in case of
need, surmounts a pciictiatiiig face, not, perhaps, very liand-
some, but with a Arm, well-cut mouth, kept distinctly human
by a close-shaven lip and chin. It is a face ch-irged with mem-
ories of a keen and various life passed below there on tho
banks of the gleaming river; and as he looks at the scene be-
fore him, the sense of familiarity is so much stronger than the
EOMOLA. 1 3
perception of change that he thinks it might be possible to
descend once more among the streets, and take up that busy
life where he left it. For it is not only the mountains and the
westward-bending river that he recognizes ; not only the dark
sides of Mount Morello opposite to him, and the long valley
of the Arno, that seems to stretch its gray, low-tufted luxuri-
ance to the far-off ridges of Carrara ; and the steep height of
Fiesole, with its crown of monastic walls and cypresses ; and
aU the green and gray slopes sprinkled with villas which he can
name as he looks at them. He sees other familiar objects much
closer to his daily walks. For though he misses the seventy
or more towers that once surmounted the walls, and encircled
the city as with a regal diadem, his eyes will not dwell on that
blank ; they are drawn irresistibly to the unique tower spring-
ing, like a tall flower-stem drawn towards the sun, from the
square-turreted mass of the Old Palace in the very heart of
the city — the tower that looks none the worse for the four
centuries that have passed since he used to Avalk under it.
The great dome, too, the greatest in the world, which, in his
early boyhood, had been only a daring thought in the mind of
a small, quick-eyed man — there it raises its large curves still,
eclipsing the hills. And the well-known bell-towers — Giotto's,
with its distant hint of rich color, and the graceful-spired Badia,
and the rest — he looked at them all from the shoulder of his
nurse.
" Surely," he thinks, " Florence can still ring her bells with
the solemn hammei--sound that used to beat on the hearts of
her citizens and strike out the fire there. And here, on the
right, stands the long, dark mass of Santa Croce, where Ave
buried our famous dead, laying the laurel on their cold brov\'8
and fanning them with the breath of praise and of banners.
But Santa Croce had no spire then : we Florentines were too
full of great building projects to carry them all out in stone
and ma^-ble ; we had our frescos and our shrines to pay for,
not to speak of rapacious condottieri, bribed royalty, and pur-
chased territories, and our fa9ades and spires must needs wait-
But what architect can the Frati Minoi-i* have employed to
build that spire for them ? If it had been built in my day,
Filippo Brunelloschi or Michelozzo would have devised some-
thing of another fashion than that — something worthy to
crown the church of Arnolfo."
At this the Spirit, with a sigh, lets his eyes travel on to the
city walls, and now he dwells on the change there with won-
der at these modern times. Why have five out of tiie eleven
convenient gates been closed ? And Mdiy, above all, should
* The Franciscans.
1 4 KOMOLA.
the towers liave l)Oon levelled tliat Averr once a cflory and de-
fense y Is the McjiM hecoinu so peaci'fiil, then, and do Floren-
tines dwell in such harmony, that there are no longer conspir-
acies to briiiLT anil)itious exiles home aujain with armed hands
at their back? These are ditlieult questions: it is easier and
j)leasanter to recognize the old than to account for the new.
And there Hows Arno, with its bridges just where they used to
be — the I'onte Vecchio, least like other bridges in the world,
laden with the same (|uaint shops, Avhere our Spirit remembers
lingering a little, on his way, perhaps, to look at the progress
of that great jialace which Messer Luca l*itti had set a-build-
ing with huge stones got from the Hill of Bogoli* close be-
hind, or, periiaps, to transact a little business with the cloth-
dressers in Oltrarno. The exorbitant line of the Pitti roof is
hidden from San Miniato ; but tlie yearning of the old P^lor-
entine is not to sec Messer Luca's too ambitious palace which
he built unto himself ; it is to be down among those narrow
streets and busy humming Piazze where he inherited the
eager life of his fathers. Is not the anxious voting with black
and white beans still going on down there ? Who are the
Priori in these months, eating soberly-regulated official din-
ners in the Palazzo Vecchio, with removes of tripe and boiled
partridges, seasoned by practical jokes against the iil-tated butt
among those potent signors ? Are not the significant banners
still hung from the windows — still distributed with decent
pomp under Orcagna's Jjoggia every two months?
Life had its zest for the old Florentine when he, too, trod
the marble steps and shared in those dignities. His politics
had an area as wide as his trade, which stretched from Syria
to liritain, but they had also the passionate intensity, and
the detailed practical interest, which could belong only to a
narrow scene of corporate action ; only to the members of a
coinmimify shut in close by the hills and by walls of six
miles' circuit, where men knew each other as they passed in
the street, set their eyes every day on the memorials of their
commonwealth, and Avere conscious of having not only the
'•:ght to vote, but the chance of being voted for. He loved
his honors and his gains, the business of his counting-house,
of his guild, of the public council-chamber; he loved his en-
mities, too, and fingereil the Avhite bean Avhich was to keep a
hated name out of the horsa with more complacency than if
it had been a golden florin. He loved to strengthen his family
by a good alliance, and went home Avith a triumphant light in his
eyes after concluding a satisfactory pdrciditdo, or marriage for
his son or daughter, under Ids favorite loggia in the evening
* Now Boholi.
ROMOLA, 15
cool; he loved his game at- chess under that same loggia, and
his biting jest and even his coarse joke, as not beneath the
dignity of a man eligible for the highest magistracy. He had
gained an insight into all sorts of affairs at home and abroad ;
he had been of the " Ten " who managed the war department,
of the " Eight " Avho attended to honie discipline, of the
Priori or Signori who were the heads of the executive gov-
ernment ; he had even risen to the supreme office of Gonfalo-
niere; he had made one in embassies to the Pope and to the
Venetians ; and he had been commissary to the hired army
of the Republic, directing the inglorious bloodless battles in
which no man died of brave breast-wounds — virtuosi coljn — but
only of casual falls and tram]ilings. And in this way he had
learned to distrust men without bitterness ; looking on life
mainly as a game of skill, but not dead to traditions of heroism
and clean-handed honor. For the human soul is hospitable,
and will entertain conflicting sentiments and contradictory
opinions with much impartiality. It was his pride, besides,
that he was duly tinctured with the learning of his age, and
judged not altogether with the vulgar, but in harmony Avith
the ancients : he, too, in his piime, had been eager for the most
correct manuscripts, and had paid many florins for antique
vases and for disinterred busts of the ancient immortals —
some, perhaps, trimcis naribus, wanting as to the nose, but not
the less authentic ; and in his old age he had made haste to
look at the early sheets of that fine Homer which was among
the early glories of the Florentine press. But he had not, for
all that, neglected to hang up a waxen image or double of him-
self under the protection of the Madonna Annunziata, or to do
penance for his sins in large gifts to the shrines of saints A\bose
lives had not been modelled on the study of the classics ; he
had not even neglected making liberal bequests towards build
ings for the Frati, against whom he had levelled may a jest.
For the Unseen Powers were mighty. Who knew — Avho
was sure — that there was any name given to them behind
which there was no angry force to be appeased, no intercesso-
ry pity to be won ? Were not gems medicinal, though they
only pressed the finger ? Were not all things charged with
occult virtues? Lucretius 'might be right — he was an ancient
and a great poet; Luigi Pulci, too, who was suspected of not
believing any thing from the roof upward (dal tetto in sii),
had very much the air of being right over the supper-table,
when the wine and riboboli were circulating fast, though he
was only a poet in the vulgar tongue. There were even learn-
ed personages who maintained that Aristotle, wisest of men
(unless, indeed, Plato were wiser?), was a thoroughly irrelig-
IG ROMOLA.
ions pliilosoplicr ; and a liberal scliolar must entertain all
8|)eculali()ns. J>ul the negatives niiglit, after all, prove false;
nay, sccmeil manifestly false, as the circling liours swept past
him, and turned round "willi graver faces. For had Jiot tho
world l)econK' Christian? Had he not been baptized in San
Giovaimi, where the dome is awful with the symbols of com-
ing judgment, and where the altar bears a crucified Image dis-
turbing to perfect complacency in one's self and the world?
Our resuscitated Sjtirit was not a pagan jthilosojiher, nor a
philosophizing i)agan poet, but a man of the fifteenth century,
inheriting its strange Aveb of belief and unbelief ; of Ejiicurean
levity and fetichistic dread ; of pedantic impossible ethics ut-
tered by rote, and crude passions acted out with chihlish im-
pulsiveness ; of inchnation towards a self-indulgent paganism,
and inevitable subjection to that human conscience which, in
tlic unrest of a new growth, was filling the air with strange
pro))hecies and presentiments.
lie had smiled, periiajis, and shaken his head dubiously, as
he heard simple folk talk of a l*ope Angelico, who was to
come byand-by and bring in a new order of things, to purify
the Church from simony, and th.e lives of the clergy from
scandal — a state of affairs too different from Avhat existed un-
der Innocent the Eighth for a shrewd mercliaiit and ])olitician
to regard tho prospect as worthy of entering into liis calcula-
tions. But he felt the evils of the time, nevertheless ; for he
was a man of public s])irit, and public spirit can never be
wholly immoral, since its essence is care for a common good.
That very Qnaresima,. or Lent, of 1 492, in which he died, still in
Ins erect old age, he had listened in San Lorenzo, not without
a mixture of satisfaction, to the preaching of a Dominican
friar, who denounced with a rare boldness the worldliness and
vicious habits of the clergy, and insisted on the duty of Chris-
tian men not to live for their own case when wrong was tri-
nm])hing in high ])laces, and not to s)»end their wealth in out-
ward ])omp even in the churches, when their fellow-citizens
were suffering from want and sickness. The /'V(//tU'arried his
doctrine rather too far for elderly ears ; yet it was a memo-
rable thing to see a preacher move his audience to such a
pitch that the Momen even took off their ornaments, and de-
livcrecl them up to be sold for the benefit of the needy.
"lie was a noteworthy man, that Prior of San Marco,"
thinks our Spirit ; " somewhat arrogant and extreme, perhaps,
especially in his denunciations of speedy vengeance. Ah,
Jdil'io non pii(i(ito* — the wages of men's sins r)fti'n
linger in their j>ayment, and I myself saw much established
* God does not pay on a Saturday. "
ROMOLA. 1 7
wickedness of long-standing prosperity. But a Frate Predi-
catore who Avanted to move the people — how could he be
moderate ? He might have been a little less defiant and curt,
though, to Lorenzo de' Medici, whose family had been the very
makers of San Marco : was that quarrel ever made up ? And
our Lorenzo himself, with the dim outward eyes and the sub-
tle inward vision, did he get over that illness at Careggi? It
was but a sad, uneasy-looking face that he Avould carry out of
the world which had given him so much, and there were
sti-ong suspicions that his handsome son would play the part
of Rehoboam. How has it all turned out ? Which party is
likely to be banished and have its houses sacked just now r
Is there any successor of the incomparable Lorenzo, to whom
the great Turk is so gracious as to send over presents of rare
animals, rare relics, rare manuscripts, or fugitive enemies, suit-
ed to the tastes of a Christian Magnifico who is at once letter-
ed and devout — and also slightly vindictive? And what fa-
aious scholar is dictating the Latin letters of the Republic — ■
what fiery philosopher is lecturing on Dante in the Duomo,
and going home to write bitter invectives against the father
and mother of the bad critic who may have found fault with
his classical spelling? Are our wiser heads leaning towards
alliance with the Pope and the Regno^ or are they rather
inclining their ears to the orators of France and Milan ?
"There is knowledge of these things to be had in the
streets below, on the beloved Marmi in front of the churches,
and under the sheltering Loggie, where surely our citizens
have still their gossips and debates, their bitter and merry
jests as of old. For are not the well-remembered buildings
all there? The changes have not been so great in those un-
counted years. I will go down and hear — I Avill tread the fa-
miliar pavement, and hear once again the speech of Floren-
tines."
Go not down, good Spirit ! for the changes are great, and
the speech of Florentines would sound as a riddle in your
ears. Or, if you go, mingle with no politicians on the Marmi
or elsewhere ; ask no questions about trade in the Calimara ;
confuse yourself Avith no inquiries into scholarship, oflicial or
monastic. Only look at the sunlight and shadows on the
grand walls that were built solidly, and have endured in their
grandeur; look at the faces of the little children, making an-
other sunlight amidst the shadows of age ; look, if you Avill,
into the churches, and hear the same chants, see the same im-
ages as of old — the images of willing anguish for a great end,
* The name giren to Naples by way of distinction among the Italian
States.
1 8 KOMOLA.
of beneficent love and ascentling glory ; see upturned living
faces and lips moving to the old ])rayers for liclp. Tlieso
tilings have iiot clianged. Tlie suiiliglit and sliadows bring
their old beauty and waken the old heart-strains at morning,
noon, and eventide; the little children are still thi^ symbol of
the eternal marriage between love and duty; and men still
yearn for the reign of j^eace and righteousness — still own tJiai
life to be the highest which is a conscious voluutary sacritice.
For the Pope Augelico is not come yet.
CHAPTER I.
THE SmrWRECKED STEANGEE.
The Loggia de' Cerchi stood in the heart of old Florence,
■within a labyrinth of narrow streets behind the Badia, now
rarely threaded by the stranger, unless in a dubious search for
a certain severely-simple door-place, bearing this inscription :
QUI NACQUE IL DIVING POETA.
To the ear of Dante the same streets rang with the shout and
clash of tierce battle between rival families ; but in the fif-
teenth centui-y they were only noisy with the unhistoi'ical
quarrels and broad jests of wool-carders in the cloth-produc-
ing quarters of San ]Martino and Garbo.
lender this loggia, in the early morning of the 9th of A]uil,
1492, two men had their eyes fixed on each other: one waa
stooping sliglifly, and looking downward with the scrutiny of
curiosity; the other, lying on the pavement, was looking up-
ward with the startled gaze of a suddenly awakened dreamer.
The standing figure was the first to sjieak. lie was a gray-
haired, broad-shouldered man, of the type "which, in Tuscan
j)]irase, is moulded with the fist and jtolislied with the pick-
axe; but the self important gravity which liad written itself
out in the deep lines about his brow and mouth secmcfl in-
tended to correct any contemptuous inferences from the hasty
workmaiiship which Nature had bestowed on his exterior.
lie had deposited a large well-filled bag, made of skins, on the
pavement, and before him hung a peddler's l)asket, garnished
])artly with small woman's-ware, sucli as thread and jtins, and
partly with fragments of glass, which had probably been taken
in exchange for tliose conunodities.
" Young man," he said, ])ointing to a ring on the finger of
the reclining figure, " when your chin has got a stiffer crop ou
EOMOLA.
19
it, you'll know better than to take your nap in street corners
with a ring like that on your forefinger. By the holy 'vangels !
if it had been any body but me standing over you tAvo minutes
ago — but Bratti Ferravecchj is not the man to steal. The cat
couldn't eat her mouse if she didn't catch it alive, and Bratti
couldn't relish gain if it had no taste of a bargain. Wliy,
young man, one San Giovanni, three years ago, the Saint sent
a dead body in my way — a blind beggar, with his cap well
lined with pieces — but, if you'll believe me, my stomach turned
against the tcstoni I'd never bargained for, till it caiue into my
head that San Giovanni owed me the pieces for what I spend
yearly at the Festa : besides, I buried the body and paid for a
mass — and so I saw it was a fair bargain. But how comes a
young man like you, with the face of Messer San Michele, to
be sleeping on a stone bed with the Avind for a curtain ?"
The deep guttural sounds of the speaker were scarcely in-
telligible to the ncAvly-waked, bewildered listener, but he un-
derstood the action of pointing to his ring : he looked down
at it, and, Avith a half-automatic obedience to the warning, took
it off and thrust it within his doublet, rising at the same time
and stretching himself.
"Your tunic and hose match ill with that jewel, young
20 HOMOLA.
man," said Bratti, dcliberatoly. " Any body might say the
saints had sent yon :i dead body ; but if you took the jewels,
I hoj)e you buried him — and you can afford a mass or two for
him into the bargain.'"
Sometliing Uke a painfid thrill appeared to dart through the
frame of the listener, and arrest the careless stretching of his
arms and chest. For an instant he turned on Jiratti with a
sharp frown ; but he immediately recovered an air of indiffer-
ence, took off the red Levantine caj) which hung like a great
purse over his left ear, j>ushed back his long dark-brown curls,
and u'lancinir at his divss, saiil, smiiinirlv,
" You speak truth, friend : my garments are as ■weather-
stained as an old sail, and they are not ohl either, only, like an
old sail, they have had a sprinkling of the sea as well as the
rain. The fact is, I'm a strajiger in Florence, and when I camo
in foot-sore last night I preferred ilinging myself in a corner
of this hospitable )»orch to hunting any longer for a chance
hostelry, wliich might turn out to be a nest of blood-suckers
of more sorts than one."
" A stranger in good sooth," said Bratti, " for the words
come all melting out of your throat, so that a Christian and a
Florentine can't tell a liook from a hanfjer. liut vou'rc not
from Genoa ? More likely from Venice, by the cut of your
clothes?"
" At this present moment,'' said the stranger, smiling, " it
is of less impoi'tance where I come from tlian where I can
go to for a mouthful of l)reakfast. This city of yours turns
a grim look on me just here: can you show me the way
to a more lively quarter, where I can get a meal and a lodg"
?"
" That I can," said Bratti, " and it is your good f<)rtin)e,
young man, that I have ha])])ened to be walking in froro
liovezzano this morning, and turned out of my way to Mercato
Vecchio to say an Ave at the Badia. That, I say, is your good
fortune. But it remains to be seen what is my profit in the
matter. Nothing for nothing, young man. If I show you the
way to Mercato Vecchio, you'll swear by yotn- patron saint to
Id me have the l)idding for that stained suit of yours when
you set uj) a better — as doiibtless you will."
" Agreed, by San Niccolo," said' the other, laughing. " Hut
now let us set off to this said Mercato, for I promise you I feel
the want of a better lining to this doublet of mine which you
are coveting."
"Coveting? Nay," said Bratti, heaving his bag on his
back and setting out. But \w broke off in his re]ily, and burst
out in loud, harsh tones, not unlike the creaking and grating
mg r
ROMOLA. 21
of a cart-wheel: '•'■Chi ahharatta — haratta — VraUa — chi ah-
baratta cenci e vetri — Vrattaferri vecchj ?*■
" It's worth but little," he said presently, relapsing into his
conversational tone. " Hose and altogether, your clotlies ai'e
worth but little. Still, if you've a mind to set yourself up with
a lute worth more than any new one, or with a sword that's
been worn by a Ridolli, or with a paternoster of the best mode,
1 1 could let you have a great bargain by making an allowance
jfor the clothes ; for, simple as I stand here {coslfatto come tu
mi vedi), I've got the best-furnished shop in the Ferravecchj,
and it's close by the Mercato. The Virgin be praised ! it's not a
pumpkin I carry on my shoulders. But I don't stay caged in
my shop all day : I've got a wife and a raven to stay at home
and mind the stock. Chi ahharatta — haratta — Vratta ? . . . .
And now, young man, where do you come from, and what's
your business in Florence ?"
" I thought you liked nothing that came to you without a
bargain," said the stranger. " You've offered me nothing yet
in exchange for that information."
" Well, well ; a Florentine doesn't mind bidding a fair price
for news ; it stays the stomach a little, though he may win no
hose by it. If I take you to the prettiest damsel in the Merca-
to to get a cup of milk — that will be a fair bargain."
" Nay ; I can find her myself if she be really in the Mercato ;
for pretty heads are apt to look forth of doors and Avindows.
No, no. Besides, a sharp trader like you ought to know that
he who bids for nuts and news may chance to find them
hollow."
'* Ah ! young man," said Bratti, witli a side-way glance of
some admiration, " you were not born of a Sunday — the salt
shops were open when you came into the world. You're not
a Hebrew, eh ? — come from Spain or Naples, eh ? Let me tell
you the Fi-ati Minori are trying to make Florence as hot as
Spain for those dogs of hell that want to get all the profits of
usury to themselves and leave none for Christians ; and Avhen
you Avalk the Calimara with a piece of yellow cloth in your caj),
it will spoil your beauty more than a sword-cut across that
\smooth olive cheek of yours. — Ahharatta, haratta — chi abba-
\ritta ? — I tell you, young man, gray cloth is against yellow
'i?loth; and there's as much gray cloth in Florence as would
make a gown and cowl for the Duomo, and there's not so much
yellow cloth as would make hose for Saint Christopher — blessed
be his name, and send me a sight of him this day ! — Ahharatta,
haratta, Wratta — chi ahharatta f''
" All that is very amusing information you are parting with
* ' ' Who wants to exchange rags, broken glass, or old iron ?"
22 iiOMOLA.
for nothing," siiil tlio stranger, rather scornfully ; " but it hap.
jH.'ns not to concern me. I am no Hebrew."
" See, now !'' said Bratti, triumphantly ; " I've made a good
bargain with mere words. I've made you tell me something,
young man, though you're as hard to hold as a lamprey. San
(riovanni be praised! a bliniazza, though it had
been the scene of a provision market from time innncmorial,
and may perhaps, says fond imagination, be the very spot to
which the Fcsulcan ancestors of the Florentines descended
from their high fastness to trafhc with the rustic population
of the valley, had not been shunned as a place of residence by
Florentine wealth. In the early decades of the fifteenth cen-
tury, which was now near its end, the ^Icdici and other pow-
erful families of the popolani f/rassi, or connnercial nobility,
had their houses there, not, perhaps, finding their ears much
offended by the loud roar of mingled dialects, or their eyes
much shocked Ijy the butchers' stalls, which the old poet An-
tonio Pucci accounts a chief glory, or dif/niUi, of a market
that, in his esteem, eclipsed the markets of all the earth be-
sides. ]>ut the glory of mutton ane' mariti voglion ri-
sparmiareP
But on this particular morning a sudden change seemed to
liave come over the face of the market. The deschi, or stalls,
were indeed partly dressed Avith their vai'ious commodities, and
already there were purchasers assembled, on the alert to secure
the finest, freshest vegetables and tlie most unexceptionable
butter. But when Bratti and his companion entered the pi-
azza it appeared that some common preoccupation had for the
moment distracted the attention both of buyers and sellers
from their proper business. Most of the traders had turned
their backs on their goods, and had joined the knots of talkers
who were ccmcentrating themselves at different points in the
piazza. A vender of old clothes, in the act of hanging out a
pair of long hose, had distractedly hung them round his neck
in his eagerness to join the nearest group ; an oratorical cheese-
monger, with a piece of cheese in one hand and a knife in the
other, was incautiously making notes of his emphatic pauses
on that excellent specimen of marzoUno ; and elderly market-
women, with their egg-baskets in a dangerously oblique posi-
tion, contributed a wailing fugue of invocation.
In this general distraction, the Florentine boys, who were
♦ Walled village.
24 ROMOLA.
never wanting in any street scene, and were of an especially
mischievous sort — as who should say, very sour crabs indeed
— saw a L,nvat (>|>i)ortunity. Some math' a rush at thi- nuts
ami drit'd lii^'s, others j)retY'rr('d tlie farinaceous delicacies at
the cooked j)rovision stalls — delicacies to which certain four-
footed dogs also, who had learned to take kindly to Lenten
fare, apjilied a discriminating nostril, and then disajtjiL'ared
with much rajudity imdcr the nearest shelter; while the mules,
not without some kicking and jtlunging among impeding has-
k(.'ts, were stretching their muzzles towards the aromatic green-
meat.
" Diavolo !" said Bratti, as lie and his companion came, quite
unnoticed, upon the noisy scene ; " the Mercato is gone as mad
as if the most Holy Father had excommunicated us again. I
must know what this is. But never fear : it seems a thousand
years to you till you see the pretty Tessa and get your cu]>of
milk ; but keep hold of me, and I'll huM to my bargain. Ke-
membcr, Tm to have the first bid for your suit, specially for the
hose, which, with all their stains, are the best panno di (fy
tlie sword I" she burst out, rushing towards her stall, but di-
recting this first volley of her wrath against Bratti, who, with
out heeding the malediction, quietly slipj)ed into her place,
within hearing of the narrative which had been absorbing her
attention, making a sign at the same time to the young stranger
to keep near him.
" I tell you I saw it myself," said a fat man, with a bur.c h
,of ncMly-purchased leeks in his hand. " I was in Santa Maria
Novella, and saw it myself. The Moman started up and threw
out her arms, and cried out and said she saw a big bull with
fierv horns coming down on the church to crush it. I saw it
myself.'^
" Saw what, Goro ?" said a man of slim figure, whose eye
twinkled rather roguishly. He wore a close jerkin, a skull-
cap lodged carelessly over his left car as if it had fallen there
aOMOLA. 25
by chance, a delicate linen apron tucked up on one side, and a
razor stuck in bis belt. " Saw the bull, or only the woman?"
" Why, the woman, to be sure ; but it's all one, mi pare :
it doesn't alter the meaning — va /" answered the fat man, with
some contempt.
" Meaning ? no, no ; that's clear enough," said several voices
at once, and then followed a confusion of tongues, in which
" Light shooting over San Lorenzo for three nights together " ,
— " Thunder in the clear starlight " — " Lantern of the Duomo
struck with the sword of St. Michael " — ''Palle "* — All
smashed " — ^'I^asso .^"- — " Lions tearing each other to pieces "
— '' Ah ! and they might well " — ^^Jioto\ caduto in Scmtissi-
nia NunziataJ'''' — " Died like the best of Christians " — " God
will have pardoned him " — Avere often i-epeated phrases, which
shot across each other like storm-driven hailstones, eacli speaker
feeling rather the necessity of utterance than of finding a lis-
tener. Perhaps the only silent membei's of the group were
Bratti, who, as a new-comer, was busy in mentally piecing to-
gether the flying fragments of information ; the man of the
razor ; and a thin-lipped, eager-looking personage in specta-
cles, wearing a pen-and-ink case at his belt.
" Ebbtne, Nello," said Bratti, skirting the group till he was
within hearing of tlie barber. " V; appears the Magnifico is
dead — rest his soul ! — and the price of wax (\ill rise ?"
" Evea as you sa r," answered Nello ; and then added, with
an air of extra gravity, but with marvellous rapidity, " and his
waxen image in the Nunziata fell at the same moment, they
say ; or at some other time, whenever it pleases the Frati Ser-
viti, who know best. And several cows and women have had
still-born calves this Quaresima; and for the bad eggs that
have been broken since the carnival, nobody has counted them !
Ah ! a great man — a great politician — a greater poet than
Dante. And yet the cupola didn't fall — only the lantern. Che
miracolo P''
A sharp and lengthened " Pst !" was suddenly heard darting
across the pelting storm of gutturals. It came from the pale
man in spectacles, and had the effect he intended ; for the
noise ceased, and all eyes in the group were fixed on him with
a look of expectation.
" 'Tis well said you Florentines are blind," he began, in an
mcisive, high voice. *^ It appears to me you need nothing but
u diet of hay to make cattle of you. What ! do you think the
* Arms of the Medici.
t A votive image of Lorenzo, in wax, hung np in tlio Church of the An-
nunziata, supposed to liave fallen at the time of his death. Bolo is jx'pular
Tuscan for Voto,
o
'JG KOMOLA.
fU'atli of Lorenzo is the scourge God has prepared for Florence?
(Ji>! you are sparrows chatting praise over the dead hawk.
What ! a man who was trying to slip a noose over ev».-ry ncek
in the Republic that he might tighten it at his pleasure ! You
likf that; you like to have the election of your magistrates
turned into closet-work, and no man to use the rights of a
citi/i'ii unless he is a Medicean. That is >vhat is meant by
.(pjalification now: netto di specchio* no longer means a man
who j)ays his dues to the Kepublic: it means a man who'll
wink at robbery of the jx'ojtle's money — at robbery of their
daughters' dowries ; who'll play the chamberer and the phi-
losojiher by turns — listen to bawdy songs at the Carnival, and
cry ' Hellisimo !' — and listen to sacred lauds, and cry again
' Hellisimo I' ]>ut this is what you love : you grumlile and
raise a riot over your quattrini hiancJii'''' (white farthings),
" but you take no notice when the ]»ublic treasury has got a
hole in the bottom for the gold to run into Lorenzo's drains.
You like to pay for stajfieri to walk before and behind one of
your citizens, that he may be affable and condescending to
you. ' See what a tall Pisan we kee])/ say you, ' to march be-
fore him with the drawn sword Hashing in our eves ; and yet
Lorenzo smiles at us. AVhat goodness !' And vou think the
death of a man who Avoidd soon have saildled and bridled you
as the Sforza has saddled and bridled jNlilan — you think his
death is the scourge God is warning you of by portents. I
tell you there is another sort of scourge in the air."
" Nay, nay, Ser Cioni, keep astride your j^olitics, and never
mount your })rophecy ; polities is the better liorse," said Nello.
" JJut if you talk of jiortents, what portent can be greater than
a pious notary '? lialaam's ass was nothing to it."
"Ay, but a notary out of work, with his ink-bottle rt man who hay San Giovanni, though," said the fat j)urchaser of leeks,
with the air of a person rather shaken in his theories, "I'm
not sure there isn't some truth in what Ser ('ioni says. F'or
I know I've good reason to iind fault with the (piattrini bian-
chi myself. (Jrumble, did he say? Suffocati(jn ! I sliould
think we do grumble ; and, let any body say the word, I'll turn
* Tlie jilirase used to exi)iess tlie ii])scn(e of ilisqimlifuation, i. e., the not
being cnlerecl ns a debtor in tbc jdiblir book (sjiecchio).
BOMOLA. 27
out m piasea with the readiest, sooner than have our money
altered in our hands as if the magistracy were so many necro-
mancers. And it's true Lorenzo might have hindered such
work if he would — and for the bull with the flaming horns,
why, as Ser Cioni says, there may be many meanings to it, for
the matter of that ; it may have more to do Avith the taxes
than we tliink. For Mhen God above sends a sign, it's not to
be supposed he'd have only one meaning."
"Spoken like an oracle, Goro !" said the barber. ""Why,
when we poor mortals can pack two or three meanings into
one sentence, it were mere blasphemy not to believe that your
miraculous bull means every thing that any man in Florence
likes it to mean."
" Thou art pleased to scoff, Xglb," said the sallow, round-
shouldered man, no longer eclipsed by the notary, " but it is
not the less true that every revelation, whether by visions,
dreams, portents, or the Avritten word, has many meanings,
which it is given to the illuminated only to unfold."
" Assuredly," answered Xello. "Haven't I been to hear
the Frate in San Lorenzo '? But then, I've been to hear Fra
Menico da Ponzo in the Duomo too ; and according to him,
your Fra Girolamo, with his visions and interpretations, is run-
ning after the wind of Mongibello, and those who follow liim
are like to have the fate of certain swine that ran headlong
into the sea — or some hotter place. With San Domenico roar-
ing ^ vero in one ear, and San Francisco screaming e falso in
the other, what is a poor barl^er to do — unless he were illumi-
nated ? But it's plain our Goro here is beginning to be illumi-
nated, for he already sees that the bull with the flaming horns
means first himself, and, secondly, all the other aggrieved tax-
payers of Florence, who are determined to gore the magistracy
on the first opportunity."
" Goro is a fool !" said a bass voice, with a note that drop-
ped like the sound of a great bell in the midst of much tink-
ling. " Let him carry home his leeks and shake his flanks
over his wool-beating. He'll mend matters more that way
'than by showing his tun-shaped body in ^??rt2z<7, as if every
body might measure his grievances by the size of his paunch.
The gravezze (burdens, i. e., taxes) that harm him most are his
heavy carcass and his idleness."
The speaker had joined the group only in time to hear the
conclusion of Xello's speech, but he was one of those figures for
whom all the world instinctively makes way, as it would for
a battering-ram. He was not much above the middle height,
but the imi^ression of enormous force which was conveyed by
his capacious chest and brawny arms bared to the shoulder
28 ROMOLA,
was deepened by the keen sense and (juiot resolution cxnres*
cd in liis cjlance ami in every furrow of his cheek and brow.
Ill' had ofti'ii been an unconscious niodi-l to Donienico (ihir-
landajo, when that j^reat painter was inakint; the walls of the
churches reflect the life of Florence, and translating pale aerial
traditions into the deep color and strong lines of the faces lie
knew. Tlic naturally dark tint of his skin was additionally
bronzed by the sa.ne powdery deposit that gave a j^olished
black surface to his leathern apron — a deposit which habit
liad probably made a necessary condition of ]ierfect ease, for
it was not washed off witli punctilious regularity.
Goro turned his fat cheek and glassy eye on the frank
speaker with a look of dei)recation rather than of reseJitment.
" Why, Niccolo,'" he said, in an injured tone, " Fve heard
you sing to another tune than that often enough, when you've
been laying down the law at San Gallo on a festa. I've heard
you say yourself that a man wasn't a mill-wheel, to be on the
grind, grind, as long as he was driven, and then stick in his
place without stirring when the water was low. And you're as
fond of your vote as any man in Florence — ay, and I've heard
you say, if Lorenzo — "
'' Yes, yes," said Niccolo. " Don't you be bringing up my
speeches again after you've swallowed them, and handing them
about as if they were none the worse. I vote and I speak when
there's any use in it: if there's hot metal on the anvil 1 lose no
time before I strike; but I don't spend good lK)urs in tinkling
on cold iron, or in stantling on the pavement as thou dost,
Goro, with snout U|)ward, like a ]>ig under an oak-tree. And
as for Lorenzo — who's dead anuoiiio leai'iiig in desperation, and cause the
lions of the liepuldic to fcii under an iniincdiatc necessity to
devour one another. 1 mean Lorenzo de Mediei, the l\!ricle8
of our Atliens — if I may make such a comi)arison in the ear
of a Greek."
"AVliv not?" said the other lau'jhin'dv ; "for T doubt
whetlier Athens, even in tlie days of Pericles, could have pro-
duced so learneardon nie, I am lost in ^vonder :
your Italian is better than his, though he has been in Italy
forty years — better even than that of the accom])lished ^larul-
lo, who may be said to have married the Italic ^luse in more
senses than one, since lie has married our learned and lovely
Alessandra Scala."
"It will lighten your wonder to know that T come of a
Greek stock, i>lantcd in Italian soil much longer than the mul-
berry-trees which have taken so kindly to it. I was born at
Bari, and my — I mean, I was brought up by an Italian — and,
in fact, may rather be called Gneculus than a Greek. The
Greek dye was subdued in nie, I suppose, till I had been dip-
ped over again by long abode and much travel in the land of
gods and heroes. And, to confess something of my private
affairs to you,tliis same Greek dye, with a few ancient gems I
have about nie, is the only fortune shii)wreck has left rae. But
— when tlie towers fall, you know, it is an ill business for the
small nest-builders — the death of your Pericles makes me wish
I had rather turned my steps towards Rome, as I should have
done, but for a f.iUacious Minerva in the shape of an Augustin-
ian monk. ' ^\t IkDme,' he said, ' you will be lost in a crowd of
hungry scholars; but at Florence, eveiy corner is penetrated
by the sunshine of Lorenzo's patronage: Florence is the best
m.arket in Italy for such commodities as yours."
'^^ Gi>afl'(\:uu\ so it will remain, 1 ho])e," said Nello. "Lo-
renzo was not the oidy patron and judge of learning in our city
— Heaven forbid ! Because he wa.s a large melon, every other
I'lorentine is not ;i jpuinpkin, »u' pure. Have we not Bernardo
Kucellai, and .Mamaiiiio Kiiniccini, aneut (plaint as these buildings are, some of them
seem to the historical memory a too modern substitute for the
fanutus housi's of the Bardi family, destroyed by popidar rage
in the middle of the fourteenth century.
They were a jtroud and energetic stock, these Bardi: con-
spicuous among those who clutched the swonl in tlie earliest
worM-famoiis fpiarrels of Florentines Avith Florentines, when
the narrow streets were darkened with the high towers of the
nobles, and when the old tutelar god Mars, as he saw the gut-
ters redileued with neighbors'.blood, might well have smiled
at thi' centuries of lip service ])aid to his rival, the Baptist.
But the J3ardi hands were of the sort that not only clutch the
KOMOLA. 49
sword-hilt with vigor, but love the more delicate pleasure of
fingering minted metal; they were matched, too, with true
Florentine eyes, capable of discerning that power was to be
won by other means than by rending and riving, and by the
middle of the fourteenth century we find them risen from
their original condition of pojyolcoii to be possessors, by pur-
chase, of lands and strongholds, and tlie feudal dignity of
Counts of Vernio, disturbing to the jealousy of their republi-
can fellow-citizens. These lordly purchases are explained by
our seeing the Bardi disastrously signalized only a few years
later as standing in the very front of European coiumerce —
the Christian Rothschilds of tliat time — undertaking to furnish
specie for the wars of our Edward the Third, and having rev-
enues " in kind " made over to them ; especially in wool, most
precious of freights for Florentine galleys. Their august
debtor left them with an august deficit, and alaraied Sicilian
creditors made a too sudden demand for the payment of de-
posits, causing a ruinous, shock to the credit of the Bardi and
that of associated houses, Avhich was felt as a commercial
calamity along all the coasts of the Mediterranean. But, like
more modern" bankrupts, they did not, for all that, hide their
heads in humiliation ; on the contrary, they seem to have held
them higher than ever, and to have been among the most ar-
rogant of those grand't, who, under certain noteworthy circum-
stances, open to all wlio will read the honest pages of Giovanni
Villani, drew upon themselves the exasperation of the armed
people in 1343. The Bardi, who had made themselves fast in
their street between tlie two bridges, kept these narrow inlets
like panthers at bay agaijist the oncoming gonfalons of the
people, and were only made to give way by an assault from the
hill behind them. Tlieir houses by the river, to the number
of twenty-two {palagl e case f/mndi), were sacked and burned,
and many among the chief of those who bore the Bardi name
were driven from the city. But an old Florentine family was
manv-rooted, and we find the Bardi maintaining importance
and Vising again and again to the surface of Floi'entine affairs
in a more orless creditable manner, implying an untold family
history that would have included even more vicissitudes and
contrasts of dignity and disgrace, of wealth and poverty, than
are usually seen on the back-ground of wide kinship.* But
* A sign that such contrasts were peculiarly frequent in Florence? is the fact
that Saint Antonine, Prior of San Marco, and afterwards archbisho]3, in the tirst
half of this fifteenth centmy, founded the society of Buonuomini di San Martino
(Good Men of St. ]Martin)'with the main object of succoring the poveri veri/off-
nosi — in other words, paupers of good taniily. In tha records of the famous
Panciatichi tamily we find a certain Girolamo in thiscentury who was reduced
3
50 KOMOLA.
the Bardi never resumed their proprietorsliip in tlie old street
on the banks of the river, -wliich in 14H2 liad loni; bei'n asso-
ciated witli otlier names of mark, and csj)ecially witli tlie Neri,
who ])ossessed a considerahle range of houses on tlie side to-
wards tlie liill. In one of these Neri houses tliere lived, how-
ever, a descendant of the Bardi, and of that very braneli which
a century and a half before had become Counts of W-rnio : a
i^descendant who had inherited the old family j)ride and energy,
the old love of pre-eminence, the old desire to leave a lasting
track of his footsteps on tiic fast-whirling earth. JJut the
family passions lived on in him under altered conditions : this
descendant of the Bardi was not a man swift in street warfare,
or one wlio loved to nlav the sirjnor, fortifvini; strong-holds
and asserting the right to hang vassals, or a merchant and
usurer of keen daring, who delighted in the generalship of wide
connnercial schemes : he was a man with a deep-veined hand
cramped by much copying of manuscrii)ts, who ate sparing
dinjiers, and M'ore threadbare clothes, at first from choice and
at last from necessity ; who sat among his books and his mar-
ble fragments of tlie ])ast, and saw them only by the light of
those far-off younger days which still shone in his memory:
he was a moneyless, blind old scholar — the Bardo de' Bardi to
M-hom Xello, the barber, had promised to introduce the young
Greek, Tito JMelema.
The house in which Bardo lived Avas situated on the side of
the street nearest the hill, and was one of those large sombre
masses of stone building pierced by comjiaratively small win-
dows, and surmounted by what may be called a roofed terrace
or loggia, of which there are many examples still to be seen in
the venerable city. Grim doors, with consj)icuous scrolled
hinges, having higli uj) on each side of them a stnall window
..,. ii.
ROMOLA. 63
backward poise of the giiTs head, and the grand line of her
neck and shoulders. It was a type of face of which one could
not venture to say whether it would inspire love or only that
unwilling admiration which is mixed with dread ; the question
must be decided by the eyes, which often seem charged with
a more direct message from the soul. But the eyes of the
father had long been silent, and the eyes of the daughter were
bent on the Latin pages of Politian's Miscellanea, from Avhich
she was reading aloud at the eightietli chapter, to the follow-
ing effect :
" There was a certain nymph of Thebes named Chariclo,
especially dear to Pallas ; and this nymph was the mother of
Teiresias. But once when, in the heat of summer, Pallas, in
company with Chariclo, was bathing her disrobed limbs in
the Heliconian Hippocrene, it happened that Teiresias coming
as a hunter to quench his thirst at the same fountain, inad-
vertently beheld Minerva unveiled, and immediately became
blind. For it is declared in the Saturnian laws that he who
beholds the gods against their Avill shall atone for it by a
heavy penalty When Teiresias had fallen into this ca-
lamity, Pallas, moved by the tears of Chariclo, endowed him
with prophecy and length of days, and even caused his pru-
dence and wisdom to continue after he had entered among the
shades, so that an oracle spake from his tomb ; and she gave
him a staff, wherewith, as by a guide, he might walk Avithout
stumbling And hence Nonnus, in the tifth book of the
Dionysiaca, introduces Actfeon exclaiming that lie calls Tei-
resias happy, since, without dying, and Avith the loss of his
eyesight merely, he had beheld Minerva unveiled, and thus,
thoug^h blind, could for e\'ermore carry her image in his
soul."
At this point in the reading the daughter's hand slipped
from the back of the chair and met her father's, Avhich he had
that moment uplifted ; but she had not looked round, and Avas
going on, though Avith a voice a little altered by some sup-
pressed feeling^to read the Greek quotation from Nonnus,
when the old man said :
" Stay, Romola ; reach me my oaa'u copy of Nonnus. It is
a more correct copy than any in Poliziano's liands, for I made
emendations in it Avhich have not yet been communicated to
any man. I finished it in 1477, Avhen my sight Avas fast faiUng
me."
Romola walked to the farther end of the room, with the
queenly step Avhich Avas the simple action of her tall, iinely-
Avrought frame, Avithout the slightest conscious adjustment oi
herself.
54 ROM OLA.
" Is it in llu' rig)it itlaeo, Komola?" asked IJanln, wlio was
perpetually scekini; the assurance that the outward fact con-
tinued to corresi)ond with the image which lived to the mi-
nutest detail in liis mind.
*' Yes, father; at the west end of tlic luom, on the third
shelf from the bottom, behind the bust of IIaardi, father and son, might have been lield reverently
on the lips of scholars in the ages to come ; not on account of
frivolous verses or j^hilosophic treatises, Avhich are superfluous
and ])resumptuous attempts to imitate the iniinitaVile, such as
allure vain men like Panhormita, and from which even the ad-
miral^le Poguio did not keep himsi-lf siiJllciiMitly free ; but be-
cause we should have given a lamp whereby men might have
Btudir-d the supreme productions of the ])ast. For why is a
young man like P(.)li/,iano, who was not yet born when I was
alrea(l me with thy petty desires as thy
mother tlid. It is true, I liave been careful to keep thee aloof
from the debasing influence of thy own sex, with their spar-
row-like frivolity and their enslaving superstition, except, in-
deed, from that of our cousin J>rigi(hi, who may well serve
as a scarecrow and a warning. ^\nd though — since I agree
with the divine Petrarca, when he declares, quoting the Auhi-
laria of Plaulus, who again was inJcbted for the truth to the
suprenu; Greek intellect, ' Optimam fceminam nuUam esst, alia
licet alia pejor sit' — I can not boast that thou art entn'ely
lifted out of that lower category to which Nature assigned
thee, nor even that in erudition thon art on a ]>ar with the
more learned women of this age; thou art nevertheless — yes,
Roniola mia," said the old man, his pedantry again melting
into tenderness, " thon art my sweet daughter, and thy voice
is as the lower notes of the ilute, ' dulcis, durabilis, clara, pura,
secans aera et auribus sedens,' according to the choice words
of Quint ilian ; and Bernardo tells me thou art fair, and thy
hair is like the l)rightness of the morning, and indeed it seems
to me that I ring,
(b-opped suddenly into Komola's young but wintry life, which
I I liad inherited nothing but memories — memories of a dead
mother, of a lost brother, of a blind father's happiei time — •
memories of far-off light, love, and beauty, that lay imbedded
in dark mines of books, and could hardly give out their bright-
ness again mitil they were kindled for her liy the torch of some
known joy. Neveitheless, she returned Tito's bow, made to
her on entering, with the same pale, proud face as ever; but
as he approached the snow melted, and when he ventured to
look towards her again, while Nello was speaking, :i pink flush
overspread her face, to vanish again almost inunediately, as if
her imi)erious will had recalled it. Tito's glance, on the con-
trary, liad that gentle, beseeching admiration in it which is the
most propitiating of appeals to a proud, shy woman, and is
{)erhaj)s the only atonement a man can make for being too
landsome. The Hnished fascination of his air came cliiefly f lom
tl'.e absence of demand and assumption. It was that of a lleet,
soft-coated, ilark-eyed animal that delights you by not bound-
ing away in indifference from you, and unexpectedly pillows its
chin oi'. your ]»alm, and looks uj) ;it you desiring to be stroked
• — as if it loved you.
" Messerc, I give you welcome," said Bai-do, with some con-
dcscention ; " misfortune Avedded to learning, and csj)ecially
EOMOLA. 63
to Greek learning, is a letter of credit that should win the ear
of every instructed Florentine ; for, as you are doubtless a^s^are,
since the period when your countryman ]Manuello Crisolora,
diffused the light of his teaching in the chief cities of Italy,
now nearly a century ago, no man is held Avorthy of the name
of scholar who has acquired merely the transplanted and de-
rivative literature of the Latins ; rather, such inert students
are stigmatized as opici or barbarians, according to the phrase
of the Romans themselves, who frankly replenished their urns
at the fountain-head. I am, as you perceive, and as Nello has
doubtless forewarned you, totally blind — a calamity to which
we Florentines are held especially liable, whether owing to the
cold winds wliich rush upon us in spring from the passes of
the Apennines, or to that sudden transition from the cool gloom
of our houses to the dazzling brightness of our summer sun,
by which the llppi are said to have been made so numerous
among the ancient Romans ; or, in fine, to some occult cause
which eludes our superficial surmises. But I pray you be seat-
ed : Nello, my friend, be seated."
Bardo paused until his fine ear had assured him that the
visitors were seating themselves, and that Romola was taking
her usual chair at his right hand. Then he said :
" From what part of Greece do you come, Messcre ? I had
thought that your unliappy country had been almost exhaust-
ed of those sons who could cherish in their minds any image
of iier original glory, though indeed the barbarous Sultans have
of late shown themselves not indisposed to ingraft on their wild
stock the precious vine which their own fierce bands have hewn
down and trampled under foot. From what part of Greece do
you come ?"
*' I sailed last from Nauplia," said Tito ; " but I have resided
both at Constantinople and Thessalonica, and have travelled
in various parts little visited by Western Christians since the
triumph of the Turkish arms. I should tell you, however,
Messere, that I was not born in Greece, but at Bari. I spent
the first sixteen years of my life in Southern Italy and Sicily."
While Tito was speaking some emotion passed, like a
breath on the waters, across Bardo's delicate features ; he
leaned forward, put out his right hand towards Romola, and
turned his head as if about to speak to her ; but then, correct-
ing liimself, .turned away again, and said, in a subdued voice,
" Excuse me ; is it not true — you are young ?'•
" I am three-and-twenty," said Tito.
" Ah," said Bardo, still in a tone of subdued e.fciteraenf^,
" and you had, doubtless, a father who cai'ed for your early m*
struction — who, perhaps, was himself a scholar ?"
04 UOMOLA.
There was .1 iliirlit ])auso before Tito's answer came to iho
ear of Bardo; but for liofnola aiulNello it comineiu-eil witli a
slight shock that seemed to pass through liiin, and cause a
innuuiilnrv f|uiverii)f; of the lij); doubtless at tlie revival of a
buprenifl} i>:untul rcinenibrauce.
" Yes," he rei)lied ; " at least a father by adoption. He was
a Neapolitan, and of accomplished scholarshij) both Latin and
Greek, liut," adtled Tito, after another sliudit pause, '' he is
lost to me — was lost on a vovage he too rashly undertook to
Delos."
Bardo sank backward a
rier that lay between them and the alien world. Xello, think-
ing that the evident check given to the conversation offered a
graceful opportunity for relieving liimself from silence, said —
"In truth, it is as clear as \'enetian glass that this hi I roductioiis of which Lui^i Pulci has furnishe(l the
most peccant exemjilar — a com})cn(lium of extravagances and
incongruities the farthest removed from the models of a pure
age, and resembling rather the (P'l/Ui, or conceits of a ])eriod
when mvstic jneaniiicc was lieM a warrant for monstrositv of
form ; with this difference, that while the monstrosity is retain-
ed, the mystic meaning is absent ; in contemi)tible contrast with
the great poera of Virgil, who, as I long held with P'ilelfo, be*
KOAIOLA. G5
Tore Landino had taken upon him to expound the same opinion,
embodied the deepest lessons of philosophy in a graceful and
well-knit fable. And I can not but regard the multipUcation
of these babbling, lawless productions, albeit countenanced by
the patronage, and in some degree the example of Lorenzo
himself, otherwise a friend to true learning, as a sign that the
glorious hopes of this century are to be quenched in gloom ;
nay, that they have been the delusive prologue to an age worse
than that of iron — the age of tinsel and gossamer, in which no
thought has substance enough to be moulded into consistent
and lasting form."
•" Once more, pardon," said Xello, opening his palms out-
ward, and shrugging his shoulders ; " I find myself knowing so
many things in good Tuscan before I have time to think of the
Latin for them ; and Messer Luigi's rhymes are always slipping
off the lips of my customers : — that is what corrupts me.
And, indeed, talking of customers, I have left my shop and my
reputation too long in the custody of my slow Sandro, who
does not deserve even to be called a tonsor inequcdis, but rath-
er to be pronounced simj)ly a bungler in the vulgar tongue.
So with your permission, Messer Bardo, I will take ray leave
— well understood that I am at your service whenever Maso
calls upon me. It seems a thousand years till I dress and per-
fume the damigella's hair, Avhich deserves to shine in the
heavens as a constellation, though indeed it were a pity for it
ever to go so far out of reach."
Three voices made a fugue of friendly farewells to Nello, as
he retreated with a bow to Romola and a beck to Tito. The
acute barber saw that the pretty youngster, who had crept into
his liking by some strong magic, was well launched in Bardo's
favorable regard ; and satisfied that his introduction had not
miscarried so far, he felt the propriety of retiring.
The little burst of wrath, called forth by Nello's unlucky
quotation, had diverted Bardo's mind from the feelings which
iiad just before been hemming in further speech, and he now
addressed Tito again with his ordinary calmness.
" Ah ! young man, you are happy in having been able to
unite the advantages of travel with those of study, and you will
be welcome among us as a bringer of fresh tidings from a land
ivhich has become sadly strange to us, except through the
agents of a now restricted commerce and the reports of hasty
pilgrims. For those days are in the far distance which I my-
self witnessed, when men like Aurispa and Guarino went out to
Greece as to a store-house, and came back laden with manu-
scripts which every scholar was eager to borrow — and, be it
owned with shame, n Jt always willing to restore ; nay, even
Y
OG UOMOLA.
the days wlicn erudite Greeks flocked to our sliores for a ref-
use seem far off now — farther off than tlie oiicoiiiin<4 of my
blindness, lint, doubtless, young man, research after the treas-
ures of anti(|uity was not alien to the jxirpose of your travels?"
"Assuredly not," said Tito. "On tlie contrary, my com-
panion — my father — was willing to risk liis life in his zeal for
tlie discovery of inscriptions and otiier traces of ancient civil
ization."
"And I trust there is a record of his researches and their
results," said Bardo, eagerly, " since they must be even more
})recious than those of Ciriaeo, which I have diligently availed
myself of, though they are not always illuminated by adequate
learning."
"There was such a record," said Tito, "but it was lost,
like every thing else, in the shipwreck I suffered below An-
coua. The only record left is such as remains in our — in my
memory."
" Yo ) must lose no time in committing it to paper, young
man," said liardo, with growing interest. " Doubtless you re-
member much, if you aided in transcription ; for when I was
your age words wrought themselves into my mind as if they
liad been fixed by the tool of the graver; wherefore I con-
stantly marvel at the caj)riciousness of my daughter's memory,
which grasps certain objects with tenacity, and lets fall all those
mimitiie whereon depends accuracy, the very soul of scliolar
ship. But I appreheml no such danger with you, young man,
if your will has secon^led the advantages of your training."
When Bardo made this reference to his daughter, Tito
ventured to turn his eyes towards her, and at the accusation
against her memory his face broke *into its brightest smile,
which was reflected as inevitably as sudden sunbeams in Ro-
mola's. Conceive the soothing delight of that smile to her!
Komola had never dreamed that there was a scholar in the
world who wouM smih; at her for a delieiency for which she
was constantly made to feel herself a culprit. It was like the
dawn of a new sense to her — the sense of comradeshij>. They
did not look away from each other immediatily, as if the smile
had been a stolen one; they looked and smiled with frank en-
joyment.
" She is not really so cold and ])rond," thought Tito.
" Does Ac forget, loo, I wonder";:'" thought Komola. "Rut
I hope not, else lie will vex my father."
But Tito was obliged to turn away and answer Bardo's
question,
" I have had much practice in transcription," he said ; " but
in the case of inscriptions copied in jnemorable scenes, render*
ROMOLA. 67
td doubly impressive by the sense of risk and adventure, it
may have hai^peued that my retention of written characters
has been weakened. On tlie plain of the Eurotas, or among
the gigantic stones of Mycenae and Tyrins — especially when
the fear of the Turk hovers over one like a vulture — the mind
wanders, even though the hand writes faithfully what the eye
dictates. But something doubtless I have retained," added
Tito, with a modesty which was not false, though he was con-
scious that it was politic ; " something that might be of serv-
ice if illustrated and corrected by a wider learning than my
own."
" That is well spoken, young man," said Bardo, delighted^
"And I will not withhold'from you such aid as I can give, if
you like to communicate with me concerning your recollec-
tions. I foresee a work which will be. a useful supplement to
the Isolario of Chistoforo Buondelmonte, and which may take
rank with the Itlneraria of Ciriaco and the admirable Ani-
brogio Traversari. But we must prepare ourselves for cal-
umny, young man," Bardo went on with energy, as if the work
were already growing so fast that the time of trial was near ; " if
your book contains novelties you will be charged with forgery ;
if ray elucidations should clash with any principles of intei'pre-
tation adopted by anotlier scholar, our personal characters will
be attacked, Ave shall be impeached with foul actions; you
must prepare yourself to be told that your mother was a iish-
woman, and that your father was a renegade priest or a hang-
ed malefactor, t myself, for having shown error in a single
proposition, had an invective Avritten against me wherein I was
taxed with treachery, fraud, indecency, and even hideous
crimes. Such, my young friend, such are the flowers with
which the glorious path of scholarship is strewed ! But tell
me, then : I have learned much concerning Byzantium and
Thessalonica long ago from Demetrio Calcondila, who has but
lately departed from Florence ; but you, it seems, have visited
less familiar scenes ?"
" Yes ; we made what I may call a pilgrimage full of danger,
for the sake of visiting places which have almost died out of
the memory of the West, for they lie away from the track of
pilgrims ; and my father used to say that scholars themselves
hardly imagine them to have any existence out of books. He
was of opinion that a new and more glorious era Avould open
for learning when men should begin to look for their commen-
taries on the ancient v\-riters in the remains of cities and tem-
ples — nay, in the paths of the rivers, and on the face of the
valleys and mountains."
"Ah!" said Bardo, fervidly, "your father, then, was not a
68 KOMOLA.
common man. Was he fortunate, may I ask? Had ho many
frk'nilsV" 'I'hese hist words were uttered in a tone eharged
with meanint;.
" No; he made em-mit'S— cliicily, T Ik I'u'Vf, by a eertain im-
petuous candor; and they himlered liis advancement, so that
he lived in obscurity. And he woukl never stoop to concili-
ate: he could never fori^et an injury."
" Ah !" said Hardo au,ain, with a lonij, deep intonation,
"Among our hazardous expeditions," continued Tito, wil-
ling to prevent further (piestions on a point so personal, " I
renuMuber with particular vividness a visit we snatched to
Athens. Our haste, and the double danger of being seized as
prisoners by the Turks, and of our galley raising anchor before
we could return, made it seem like a fevered vision of the night
— the wide ]>lain, the girdling mountains, the ruined ])orticoes
and t'olunms, either standing far aloof, as if receding from our
hurried footsteps, or else jammed in confusedly among the
dwellings of Christians degraded into servitude, or among the
forts and turrets of their Moslem conquerors, who have their
strongdiold on the Acropolis."
" You till me with surprise," said Bardo. " Athens, then,
is not utterly destroyed and swept away, as I had imagi!ied V"
"No wontler you sliou'd be under that mistake, tor few
even of the Greeks themselves, Avho live beyond the mountain
boundary of Attica, know any thing about the jireseut condi-
tion of Athens, f)r Setine, as the sailors call it. I remember, as
we were rounding the jiromontory of Sunium, the Greek jdlot
we had on board our Venetian galU'y i)ointed to the mighty
columns that stand on the summit of the rock — the remains,
as you know well, of the great temple erected to the goddess
Atiiena, who looked down from that high shrine with triumph
at her conn you that long-accumulated study wliicli was to have
Ik'cu thiown into the channel of another work — a work ia
which I myself was to have had a helpmate."
IJardo paused a nu^ment,and then added —
"But who knows whether that work may not be executed
yet? For you, too, young man, have been brought up by a
father who poured into your mind all the long-gatlicrcd stream
of his kiiowleilge and experience. Our aid might bo mutual."
Koniola, who had watched her father's growing excitement,
and divined well the invisible currents of feeling that deter-
mined every question and remark, felt herself in a glow of
strange anxiety: she turned her eyes on Tito contimuilly, to
watch the impression her father's words made on him, afraid
lost he should be inclined to dispel these visions of co-opera-
tion which were lighting up her father's face with a new
hope. But no ! He looked so bright and gentle : he must
feel, as she did, that in this eagerness of blind age there was
piteousness enough to call forth inexhaustible jtatience. How
much more strongly he would feel this if he ktiew about her
brother ! A girl of eighteen imagines the feelings behind the
face that has moved her with its symi)athetic youth, as easily
as primitive people imagined the humors of the gods in fair
weather : what is she to believe in, if not in this vision woven
from within ?'
"And Tito was really very far from feeling impatient. He
delighted in sitting there with the sense that liomolu's atten-
tion was iixed on him, and that he could occasionally look at
her. He was pleased that Bardo should take an interest in
him; and he did not ilwell with enough seriousness on the
prospect of the work in which he was to be aided, to feel
moved by it to any thing else than that easy, gooil-humored
ac(piiescence which was natural to him.
" I shall be ]»roud and hap))y," he saiil, in answer to Bardo\s
last words, " if my services ean l)e held a meet offering to the
matured scholarship of ]\Iess»re. But doubtless" — here he
looked towards IJomola — " the lovi-ly damigella. youi' daughter,
makes all (jther aid siipertluoiis ; for I have learned from Nell.)
jthat she has been nourished on the highest studies from her
earliest years."
"You are mistaken," said Komob ; "I am by no means
sutlicienl to my father: I have not the gifts that are necessary
for scholarship."
Rojuola H ut her iallier's tu a stranger. It
seemed that she was destined to a sudden confidence and fa-
miliarity with this young Greek, strangely at variance with her
deeply-seated pride and reserve; and this consciousness again
brought tlie unwonted color ttj her cheeks.
Tito understood her look and sign, and immediately with
drew his hand from the case, saying in a careless tone, so as tc
make it appear that he was merely following up his last words,
" But they are usually in the keejdng of Messer Domenico
Cennini, wlio has strong and safe places for these things. 11m
estimates them as worth at least five hundred ducats."
"Ah, then, they are line intagli," said IJardo. "Five hun-
dred ducats ! Ah, more than a man's ransom !"
Tito gave a slight, almost imperceptil)le start, and opened
Ids long dark eyes with (juestioning surinise at J>ardo\s blind
face, as if his words — a mere i)hrase of common ]»arlance, at a
time when men were often being ransomed from slavery or
imprisonment — had had some sj)ecial meaning for him. But the
next moment he lookeil towards Ilomola, as it her eyes must
be her father's interpreters. She, intensely preoccupied with
what related to her father, imagined that Tito was looking
to her again for some guidance, and immediately sj)oke.
" AUessandra Scala delights in gems, you know, father; she
calls them her winter Howers; and the Segretario would be
almost sure to buy some of ^Nlessere's gems if she wished it.
Besides, he himself sets great store by rings and sigils, which
he wears as a defense against pains in the joints."
"It is true," said Bardo. "Bartolommeo has overmuch
confidence in the elKcacy of gems — a confidence wider than i;4
sanctioned by l*liny, who clearly shows that he regards many
beliefs of that sort as idle superstitions; though not to the
utter denial of medicinal virtues in gems. Wherefore, I my-
self, as you observe, young man, wear certain lings, which the
discreet Camillo Leonanli prescribed to me by letter when
two years ago I had a certain infirmity of sudden numbness.
But thou hast spoken well, liomola. I will dictate a lettei" to
Bartolommeo, which Masu shall carry. liut it were well that
JNIessere should notify to thee what tlic gems arc, together
with the iiitagli they bear, as a warrant to Bartolommeo that
they will be worthy of his attention."
" Nay, father," said Komola, whose dread lest a paroxyRm
of the collector's maiua should seize her father gave her the
courage to resist his ])roposal. " Your word will be sufficient
that .Messero is a scholar and has travelled much. The Segre-
tario will need Jio further inducement to receive him."
KOMOLA. 73
" True, chilcl,'" sai(i Bardo, touched on a chord that was sure
to respond. " I have no need to add proofs and arguments
in confirmation of my Avord to Bartolommeo. And I doubt
not, that this young man's presence is in accord with the tones
of his voice, so that, the door being once opened, he will be
hhi own best advocate."
Bardo paused a few moments, but his silence was evidently
charged with some idea that he was hesitating to express, for
he once leaned forward a little as if he were going to speak,
then turned his head aside towards Romola and sank backward
again. At last, as if he had made up his mind, he said in a
tone Avhich might have become a prince giving the courteous
signal of dismissal :
" I am somewhat fatigued this morning, and shall prefer
seeing you again to-morrow, when I shall be able to give you
the secretary's answer, authorizing you to present yourself to
him at some given time. But before you go " — here the old
man, in spite of himself, fell into a more faltering tone — "you
will perhaps permit me to touch your hand ? It is long since
I touched the hand of a young man."
Bardo had stretched out his aged white hand, and Tito im-
mediately ]ilaced his dark but delicate and supple fingers with-
in it. Bardo's cramped fingers closed over them, and he held
them for a few minutes in silence. Then he said :
" Romola, has this young man the same complexion as thy
brother — fair and pale ?"
"No, father," Romola answered, with determined compo-
sure, though her heart began to beat violently with mingled
emotions. " Tiie hair of Messere is dark — his complexion is
dark." InAvardly she said, " AVill he mind it ? will it be dis-
agreeable? No,'he looks so gentle and good-natured." Then
aloud again :
" Would Messere permit my father to touch his hair and
face?"
Her eyes inevitably made a timid entreating appeal while
she asked this, and Tito's met them with soft brightness as he
said, " Assuredly ;" and, leaning forward, raised Bardo's hand
to his curls, with a readiness of assent which was the greater
relief to her because it was unaccompanied by any sign of
embarrassment.
Bardo passed his hand again and again over the long curls
and grasped them a little, as if their spiral resistance made his
inward vision clearer ; then he passed his hand over the brow
and cheek, tracing the profile with the edge of his palm a"/l
fourth finger, and letting the breadth of his hand repose on
the rich oval of the cheiik.
4
74 110.M0I.A. . •
"Ah !" he said, as liis liand crli before liiin — the young stran-
ger leaning in tliat iilial attitude, while JJardo's hand rested
on his shoulder, and Komola sitting near \vitli eyes dilated
by anxiety and agitation. l>ut there was an instantaneous
change: JJardo let fall his IuukI, Tito raised himself from his
8too])ing posture, and Komola rose to meet the visitor with
an alacrity which implied all the greater intimacy, because it
was nnaecomjxinied by any smile.
'■^JiJb/H/it,ji!/liocci»r which he wants to find a purchaser. I am
going to send him to Bartolommeo Scala, for thou knowest it
were more prudent in me to abstain from further purchases."
Bernardo shrugged his shoulders and said, " Romola, wilt
thou see if my servant is without? I ordered him to wait for
me here." Then, when Romola was at a sufficient distance,
he leaned forward and said to Bardo, in a low emphatic tone:
" Remember, Bardo, thou hast a rare gem of thy own ; take
care no man gets it who is not likely to pay a worthy price.
That pretty Greek has a lithe sleekness about him that seems
marvellously fitted for slipping easily into any nest he fixes his
mind on."
Bardo was startled : the association of Tito with the image
of his lost son had excluded instead of sunrccestiner the thousrht
76 ROMOLA,
of Romola. But almost immediately there Becmcd to bo a
reaotioi!, wliirli made him grasp the warning as it il liad been
a liuj)e.
" Jiiit wliy not, liernardo? If the younfj man approved
himsell wortliy — he is a scholar — and — and tliere would be no
difficulty about the dowry, which always makes thee gloomy."
CHAPTER VII.
A LEARNED SQUARBLE.
Bartolommeo Scala, secretary of the Florentine Repul>
lie, on whom Tito Melema had been thus led to anclu)r his
hopes, lived in a handsome palace close to the Porta a Pinti,
now known as the Casa (iheraidesca. His arms — an azure
ladder transverse on a golden lield, with the motto Gnulatim
jjlaced over the entrance — told all comers that the miller's son
lield his ascent to honors by his own efforts a fact to be pro-
claimed without wincing. The secretary was a vain and pomp-
ous man, but he was also an honest one : he was sincerely con-
vinced of his own merit, and could see no reason for feigning.
The topmost round of his azure ladder had been reached by
this time: he had held his secretaryship these twenty years
— had long since made his orations on the rinr/hicra, or plat-
form, of tlie Old Palace, as the custom was, in the presence of
]»rincely visitors, Avhile IMarzocco, the reindtlican lion, wore
his gold crown on the occasion, and nil the people cried, '' Viva
Messer I^artolommeo !" — had been on an embassy to Rome,
and had there Ix'en made titular Senator, Apostolical Secretary,
Knight of the Golden Spur; and had, eight years ago, been
(Jonfaloniere — last goal of the Florentine citizen's and)ition.
Meantime he had got richer and richer, and more and more
gouty, after the manner of successful mortality; and the
Knight of the (xolden Spur had often to sit with lu'lpless cush-
ioned heel under the handsome loggia he had built for him-
Belf, overlooking the spacious gardens and lawn at the back of
his palace.
He was in this position on the day when he had granted the
desired interview to Tito ]\Ielema. The May afternoon sun
was on the flowers and the grass beyond the))Ieasant shade of
the loggia ; the too stately silk Ixcco was cast aside, and a light
loose mantle was thrown over his tunic ; his beautiful daughter
Alessandra and her husband, the Greek soldier-poet Marullo,
•were seate(l on one side of him : on the other, two friends,
not opj)ressively illustrious, and, therefore, the better listeners.
ROMOLA. 77
Yet, to say nothing of the gout, Messer Bartolommeo's felicity
was far from perfect : it Avas embittered by the contents of
certain papers that lay before him, consisting chiefly of a cor-
respondence between himself and Politian. It was a human
foible at that period (incredible as it may seem) to recite quar-
rels, and favor scholarly visitors with the communication of an
entire and lengthy corresjjondence ; and this Avas neither the
first nor the second time that Scala had asked the candid opin-
ion of his friends as to the balance of right and wrong in some
half score Latin letters between himself and Politian, all spring-
ing out of certain epigrams written in the most playful tone in
the world. It was the story of a very typical and pretty quar-
rel, in which we are interested, because it supplies precisely
that thistle of hatred necessary, according to Nello, as a stim-
ulus to the sluggish paces of the cautious steed, Friendship.
Politian, having been a rejected pretender to the love and the
hand of Scala's daughter, kept a very sharp and learned tooth
in readiness against the too prosperous and presumptuous sec-
retary, who had declined the greatest scholar of the age for
a son-in-law. Scala was a meritorious public servant, and,
moreover, a lucky man — naturally exasperating to an offended
scholar ; but then — Oh beautiful balance of things ! — he had an
itch for authorship, and was a bad writer — one of those excel-
lent people who, sitting in gouty slippers, " penned poetical
trifles" entirely for their own amusement, without any view
to an audience, and, consequently, sent them to their fiiends in
letters, which were the literary periodicals of the fifteenth cen-
tury. Now Scala had abundance of friends Avho were ready
to praise his writings : friends like Ficino and Landino — ami-
able browsers in the Medicean park along with himself — who
found his Latin prose style elegant and masculine; and the
terrible Joseph Scaliger, who was to pronounce him totally
ignorant of Latinity, was at a comfortable distance in the next
century. But when was the fatal coquetry inherent in super-
fluous authorship ever quite contented with the ready praise
of friends ? That critical, supercilious Politian — a fellow- ,
browser, who was far from amiable — must be made aware that I'
the solid secretary showed, in his leisure hours, a pleasant fer- j,
tility in verses, that indicated pretty clearly how much he f
might do in that way if he were not a man of affairs.
Ineffable moment ! when the man you secretly hate sends
you a Latin epigram with a false gender — hendecasyllables
with a questionable elision, at least a toe too much — attempts
at poetic iigtires which are manifest solecisms. That moment
had come to Politian : the secretary had put forth his soft
head fi-om the ofiicial shell, and the terrible lurking crab was
78 ROMOLA.
down upon linn. Politian had used the freedom of ji friend,
and pleasantly, in llic torni of a Latin t-pii^ram, curn-cted the
nii.stake of iScala in making the cuUx (an insect well known
at the revival of learniuLr) of the inferior or feminine gender.
Scala replied by a bad joke, in suitable Latin verses, referring
to Politian's unsuecessful suit. lU'tter and better. I'olitian
found the verses very pretty and highly facetious: the more
was the pity that they were seriously incorrect, and inasmuch as
Scala had alleged that he had writti'ii them in imitation of a
certain Greek epigram, I'olitian, being on such friendly terms,
would inclose a Greek epigram of his own, on the same inter-
esting insect — not, we nniy presume, out of any wish to lunnblo
Scala, but rather to instruct him ; said epigram containing a
lively conceit about Venus, ('u[)id, and the cxlcr, of a kind
much tasted at that period, but unhajj])ily founded partly on
the zoological mistake that the tlea, like the gnat, was born
from the waters. Scala, in reply, bi'gged to say that his verses
were never intended for a scholar with such ilelicate olfactories
as Politian, nearest of all li\ ing men to the perfection of the
ancients, and of a taste so fastidious that sturgeon itself must
seem insipid to him; deienrcsent condition in Florence, it
was inevital)le to mention Pulitian, a man ol eminent ahilitv,
indee
make light of it: had he not been unintentionally speaking
the truth in his false modesty ?
Tito was ready, and scarified the ejiigram to Scala's con-
tent. O wise yom)g jutlge ! lie could doubtless appreciate
satire even in the vulgar tongue, and Scala — who, excellent
man, not seeking publicity through the booksellers, was never
mii)rovided with "hasty uncorrected trifles," as a sort of
sherbet for a visitor on a hot day, or, if the weather were
cold, why then as a cordial — had a few little mafters in the
sliape of {Sonnets, turning on well-known foibles of Politian's,
which he Mould not like to go any farther, but which would,
perhaps, amuse the com])any.
Enough : Tito took his leave under an urgent invitation to
come again. His gems were interesting ; especially the agate,
with the litsus 7iatiinr in it — a most wonderful semblance of
Cupid riding on the lion; and the "Jew's stone," with the
lion-headed serpent enchased in it; both of which the secre-
tary agreeil to buy — the latter as a reinforcement of his jire-
ventives against the gout, which gave him such severe twinges
that it was ])lain enough how intolerable it would be if he
were not well supplii'd with rings of rare virtue, and with an
amulet worn close uiuler the right breast. IJut Tito was as-
EOMOLA. 81
sured that he himself was more interesting than } if gems.
He had won his May to the Scala Palace by the recommenda-
tion of Bardo de' Bardi, who, to be sure, was Scala's old ac-
quaintance and a worthy scliolar, in spite of his overvaluing
himself a little (a frequent foible in the secretary's friends) ;
but he must come again on the ground of his own manifest
accomplishments.
The interview could hardly have ended more auspiciously
for Tito, and as he walked out at the Porta a Pinti that he
might laugh a little at his ease at the aifair of the culex, he
felt that Fortune could hardly mean to turn her back on hira
again at present, since she had taken him by the hand in this
decided way.
CHAPTER VIII.
A rAC:E IN THE CROWJJ.
It is easy to northern people to rise early on Mid-summei
morning to see the dew on the grassy edge of the dusty path-
>vav, to notice the fresh shoots amon the darker y Orcagna — the scene of
all grand State ceremonial. The sky made the fairest blue
tent, and under it the bells swung so vigorously that every evil
spirit with sense enough to be formidable must long since have
taken his flight; windows and terraced roofs were alive with
human faces; sombre stone houses were bright with hanging
drajK'ries ; the boldly-soaritig ]>alace tower, the yet older square
tower of the Bargello, and the spire of the neighl)oring iiadia,
seemed to keep watch above ; and below, on the broad polygonal
flags of the piazzi, was the glorious show of banners and horses
with rich trai)pings and gigantic cerf, or tapers, that were fitly
called towers — strangely aggrandized descendants of those
torches by whose faint light the Church worshij^ped in tlie
catacotnl^s. Hetimes in the morning all i)rocessu>ns had need
to move under the Mid-summer sky of Florence, where the
shelter of the narrow streets must every now and then be ex-
changed for the glare of wide spaces ; and the sun would be
high up in the lieavens before the long pomp had ended its
pilgrimage in the l*iazza di San (Tiovamii.
But here, where the ])rocession was to pause, the magnifi-
cent city, Avith its ingenious Cecca, had pi-ovided another tent
than the sky ; for the whole of the Piazza del Duoino, from the
octagonal Itaptistery in the centre of the fa5ade of the cathedrrtl
and the walls of the houses on the other sides of the quadrangle,
was covered, at the height of forty feet or more, with blqe
ROMOLA. 85
draperj, adorned with well-stitched yelloAV lilies and the famil-
iai- coats of arms, while sheaves of many-colored banners
drooped at fit angles under this superincumbent blue — a gor-
geous rainbow-lit shelter to the waiting spectators who leaned
from the windows, and made a narrow border ou the pavement
and wished for the coming of the show.
One of those spectators was Tito Melema. Bright, in the
midst of brightness, he sat at the window of the room above
Nello's shop, his right elbow resting on the red drapery hang-
ing from the window-sill, and his head supported in a back-
ward position by the right hand, which pressed the curls
against his ear. His face wore that bland liveliness, as far re-
moved from excitability as from heaviness or gloom, which
marks the companion popular alike among men and women —
the companion who is never obtrusive or noisy from uneasy
vanity or excessive animal spirits, and whose brow is never
contracted by resentment or indignation. He showed no oth-
er change from the two months and more that had passed since
his first appearance in the weather-stained tunic and hose, than
that added radiance of good fortune, which is like the just
perceptible perfecting of a fiower after it has drunk in a morn-
ing's sunbeams. Close l)ehind him, ensconced in the narrow
angle between his chair and the window-frame, stood the slim
figure of Nello in holiday suit, and at his left the younger
Cennini — Pietro, the erudite corrector of proof-sheets, not
Domenico the practical. Tito was looking alternately down on
the scene below, and upward at the varied knot of gazers and
talkers immediately around him, some of whom had come in
after witnessing the commencement of the procession in the
Piazza della Signoria. Piero di Cosimo Avas raising a laugh
among them by his grimaces and anathemas at the noise of the
bells, against which no kind of ear-stuffing was a sufficient bar-
ricade, since the more he stuffed his ears the more he felt the
vibration of his skull, and declaring that he would bury Mm-
self in the most solitary spot of the Valdarno on afesta, if he
were not condemned, as a painter, to lie in wait for the secrets
of color that Avere sometimes to be caught from the floating of
banners and the chance grouping of the multitude.
Tito had just turned his laughing face away from the
whimsical painter to look down at the small drama going on
among the checkered border of spectators, when at the angle
of the marble steps in front of the Duomo, nearly opposite
Nello's shop, he saw a man's face up-turned towards him, and
fixing on him a gaze that seemed to have more meaning in it
than the ordinary passing observatio:i of a stranger. It was a
face with tonsured head, that rose above the black mantle and
86 ROMOLA,
white tunic of a Dominican friar — a very common sit^lit in Flor*
ence; but the glance had something peculiar in it for Tito. There
was a faint suggestion in it, certainly not of an unpleasant kind.
But what pleasant association had lie ever had with monks?
None. The glance and the suggestion were hardly longer
tlu'.n a Hash of lightning.
" \cIlo !" said Tito, hastilv, but immcdiatolv adtled, in a tone
of disappointUK'ut, '" Ah, he has turned louiid. It was that
tall, thin friar who is going up tiie steps. 1 wanted you to teii
me if you knew aught of him ?"
'' One of the Frati Predicatori," said Nello, carelessly ; " you
don't expect me to know the private history of the crows."
" I seem to remember something about his face," said Tito.
" It is an uncommon face."
" What y you thought it might be our Fra Girolamo ? Too
tall ; and he never shows liimself in that chance way."
" Besides, that loud-barking ' houiul of the Lord '* is not in
Florence just now," sai>■ Ni'Done Meimni.
ROMOLA. 87
the lean, which again means triumph of the fattest popolano
over those who are less fat."
" Cronaca, you are becoming sententious," said the printer ;
" Fra Girohimo's preaching will spoil you, and make you take
life by the wrong handle. Trust me, your cornices will lose
half their beauty if you begin to mingle bitterness with them;
that is the maniera Tedesca which you used to declaim against
when you came from Rome. The next palace you build we
shall see you trying to put the Frate's doctrine into stone."
" That is a goodly show of cavaliers," said Tito, who had
learned by thistime the best way to please Florentines; "but
are there not strangers among them ? I see foreign cos-
tumes."
" Assuredly," said Cennini ; " you see there the Orators
from France, "]Milan, and Venice, and behind them are English
and German nobles ; for it is customary that all foreign visit-
ors of distinction pay their tribute to San Giovanni in the
train of that gonfalon. For my part, I think our Florentine
cavaliers sit their horses as well as any of those cut-and-thrusr.
northerns, whoso wits lie in their heels and saddles ; and for
yon Venetian, I fancy he would feel himself more at ease on
the back of a dolphin. We ought to know something of
horsemanship, for we excel all Italy in the sports of the Giostra,
and the money we spend on them. But you will see a finer
show of our chief men by-and-by, Melema ; my brother him-
self will be among the officers of the Zecca."
" The baimers are the better sight," said Piero di Cosimo,
forgetting the noise in his delight at the winding stream of
color as the tributary standards advanced round the piazza.
" The Florentine men are so-so ; they make but a sorry show
at this distance with their patch of sallow liesh-tint above the
black garments ; but those banners with their velvet, and satin,
and minever, and brocade, and their endless play of delicate
light and shadow! — Va! your human talk and doings are a
tame jest ; the only passionate life is in form and color."
" Ah, Piero, if Satanasso could paint, thou wouldst sell thy
soul to learn his secrets," said Nello. " But there is little like-
lihood of it, seeing the blessed angels themselves are such poor
hands at chiaroscuro, if one may judge from their eapo-d''opera^
the Madonna Nunziata."
" There go the banners of Pisa and Arezzo," said Cennini.
" Ay, Messer Pisano, it is no use for you to look sullen ; you
may as well carry your banner to our San Giovanni with a
good grace. ' Pisans false, Florentines blind ' — the second
half of that proverb will hold no longer. There come the en-
signs of our subject towns and signories, Melema; they wLU
88 ROMOLA.
all be suapcndctl in San Giovanni until this Jay next year, when
they will give place to new ones."
"They are a fair sight," said Tito ; " and San Giovanni will
surely be as well satisfied with that jiroduee of Italian loonis
as Minerva with lier pe])k»s, especially as he contents himself
with so little drapery. But ray eyes are less delighted with
those whirling towers, which would soon make rae fall from
the window in synipathetic vertigo."
The "towers " of which Tito spoke were a part of the pro-
cession esteemed very glorious by the Florentine i)opulaee, and,
liaving tlu'ir origin, jicihaps, in a confuseil combination of the
tower-shaped triumphal car which the Komans borrowed from
the Etruscans, with a kind of hyperbole for the all-efticacious
wax taper, were also called ceri. But inasmuch as all hyper-
bole is impracticable in a real and literal fashion, these gigantic
ceri, some of them so large as to be of necessity carried on
wheels, were not solid but hollow, and had their surface made
not solely of wax, but of wood and jiasteboard, gildetl, carved,
and painted, as real sacred tapers often are, with successive
circles of figures — warriors on Iiorseback, foot-soldiers with
lance and shield, dancing maitlens, animals, trees, and fruits,
and in fine, says the old chronicler, " all things that could de-
light the eye and the heart ;" x\w. hollowness having tlie further
advantage that men could stand inside these hyperbolic tapers
and whiil them continually, so as to produce a jihantasmagorie
effect, which, consideiing the towers were numerous, must have
been calculated to produce dizziness on a truly magnificent
scale.
'■'■Pestilcyizn r'' said Piero di Cosimo, moving from the win-
dow, " those whirling circles one above the other are worse
than the jangling of all the bells. Let me know when the last
taper has passed."
" Nay, you will surely like to be called when the conta-
dini come carrying their torches," said Nello; "you would
not miss the men of the Mugello and the Casentino, of whom
your favorite Lionardo would make a hundred grotescpie
sketches."
"No," said Piero, resolutely; "I will see nothing tili the
oar of the Zecca comes. I have seen clowns enough holding
taj)ers aslant, both with and M'ithout cowls, to last me for my
life."
"Here it comes, then, Piero — the car of the Zecca," called
out Nello, after an interval during which towei's and tapers in
a descending scale of size had been making their slow transit.
"J'^ediddio P'' exclaimed PVancesco Cei, " that is a well-tau'
ned San Giovanni ! some sturdy liomagnole beggar-man, I'll
KOMOLA. 83
warrant. Our Signory plays the liost to all tlie Jewish and
Chiistian scum that every other city shuts its gates against,
and lets them fatten on us like Saint Anthony's swine."
To make clear this exclamation of Cei's, it must be under-
stood that the car of the Ze cca, o r Mint, was originally an im-
mense wooden tower or ccrv adorned after the same fashion
as the other tributary ceri, mounted on a splendid car, and
drawn by two mouse-colored oxen, whose mild heads looked
out from rich trappings bearing the arms of the Zecca. But
the latter half of the century was getting rather ashamed of
the towers with their circular or spiral paintings, which had
delighted the eyes and the hearts of the other half, so that
they had become a contemptuous proverb, and any ill-painted
figure looking, as will sometimes happen to figures in the best
ages of art, as if it had been boned for a pie, was called a fan-
toccio da cero, a tower-puppet ; consequently improved taste,
with Cecca to help it, had devised for the magnificent Zecca a
triumphal car like a pyramidal catafalque, with ingenious
wheels warranted to turn all corners easily. Round the base
were living figures of saints and angels arrayed in sculptu-
resque fashion ; and on the summit, at the height of thirty feet,
well bound to an iron rod and holding an iron cross also
firmly infixed, stood a living representative of St. John the
Baptist, with arms and legs bare, a garment of tiger-skins
about his body, and a golden nimbus fastened on his head — ■
as the Precursor was ^vont to appear in the cloisters and
churches, not having yet revealed himself to painters as the
brown and sturdy boy who made one of the Holy Family.
For where could the image of the patron saint be more fitly
placed than on the spubol of the Zecca ? Was not the royal
prerogative of coining money the surest token that a city had
won its independence? and by the blessing of San Giovanni
this "beautiful slieepfold " of his had shown that token ear-
liest among the Italian cities. Nevertheless, the annual func-
tion of representing the patron saint was not among the high
prizes of public life ; it was paid for with ten lire, a cake weigh-
ing fourteen pounds, two bottles of wine, and a handsome sup-
ply of light eatables ; the money being furnished by the magnifi-
I •ent Zecca, and the payment in kind being by peculiar " priv-
Jege" presented in a basket suspended on a pole from an
upper Avindow of a private house, Avhereupon the eidolon of
the austere saint at once invigorated himself with a reasonable
share of the sweets and wine, threw the remnants to the crowd,
and embraced the mightv cake securelv Avith his right arm
through the remainder of his passage. This was the attitude
in which the mimic San Giovanni presented himself as the tail
90 KOMOLA.
car jorko.il anrofessor of
(iieek as well as J^atin at Florence, professorial chairs being
maintained there, although the university had been removed
to Pisa ; but for a long time Demetrio Calcondila, one of the
most eminent and respectable among the emigrant Greeks^
had also held a (ireek chair, simultaneously with the too pre-
dominant Italian. Calcondila was now gone to Milan, and
there was no counterjtoise or rival to Politian such as was de-
sired for him by the friends who wislieriiis. " Before I
quit every thing, aiila
cap A\ itli npturnud lappet, which just crowned his brown curls,
j)ushin<,f his liair and tossing his head backward to court the
cooler air, there was no brand of duplicity on his brow, neither
was there any stamp of candor : it was simply a finely foiined.
square, smooth young brow ; and the slow absent glance ho
cast round at the upper windows of the houses liad neither
more dissimulation in it, nor more ingeiuiousness, than belongs
to a youthful well-opened eyelid with its unwearied Ijrcadtli
of gaze; to ])erfectly pellucid lenses; to the undimmed dark
of a rich brown iris ; and to a pure cerulean-tinted angle of
whiteness streakenrchment and the marble, aloof
fnjm the life of tlie streets on holidays ;is well as on common
days, with a face just a little less biight than usual, from re-
gret at appi-aring so late; a regret which wanted no testimo-
ny, since he had given \ip the sight of the Corso in order to
express it; and then set himself to throw extra animation into
the evening, though .all the while his consciotisness was at work
like a machini' with c<.m]>l(\ action, leaving de])osits quite
distinct from the line of talk; and by the time he descended
ROMOLA. Ill
the stone stairs ajid issued from the grim door in the starlight
liis mind had really reached a new stage iu its formation of a
purpose.
And wlien, the next day, after he was free from liis profes-
sorial work, he turned up tlie Via del Cocomero, towards the
convent of San Marco, his purpose was fully shaped. He was
going to ascertain from Fra Luca precisely how much he con-
jectured of the truth, and on what grounds he conjectured it ;
and, further, how long he was to remain at San Marco. And
on that fuller knowledge he hoped to mould a statement which
would in any case save him from the necessity of quitting
Florence. Tito had never had occasion to fabricate an in-
genious lie before : the occasion was come now — the occasion
which circumstance never fails to beget on tacit falsity ; and
his ingenuity was ready. For he had convinced himself that
he was not bound to go in search of Baldassarre. He had
once said that on a fair assurance of his father's existence and
Avhereabouts he would unhesitatingly go after him. But, after
all, ^ohy was he bound to go ? What, looked at closely, was
the end of all life, but to extract the utmost sum of pleas-
ure ? And was not his own blooming life a promise of in-
comparably more pleasure, notfoi- himself only, but for others,
than the withered wintry life of a man who was past the time
of keen enjoyment, and whose ideas had stiffened into barren
rigidity ? Those ideas had all been sown in the fresh soil of
Tito's mind, aiul were lively gei"ms there ; that was the pro]>er
order of things— the order of Nature, which treats all maturity
as a mere nidus for youth. Baldassarre had done his work,
had had liis draught of life : Tito said it was his turn now.
And the prospect was so vague : — " I think they are going
to take me to Antioch :" here was a vista I After a long voyage,
to spend months, perhaps years, in a search for which even
now there was no guaranty that it would not prove vain : and
to leave behind at starting a life of distinction and love : and
to find, if he found any thing, the old exacting companionship
which was known by rote beforehand. Certainly the gems
and therefore the florins were, in a sense, Baldassarre's : in the
narrow sense by which the right of possession is determined
in ordinary affairs ; but in that larger and more radically nat-
ural view by which the world belongs to youtli and strength,
they were rather his who could extract the most pleasure out
of them. That, he was conscious, Avas not the sentiment which
the complicated play of human feelings liad engendered in sO'
ciety. The men around him would expect that he should im-
mediately apply those florins to his benefactor's rescue. But
what "was the sentiment of societv ? — a mere tangle of anoma
1 1 2 ROM OLA.
lous traditions and opinions, that no wise man would take aa a
guide, except so far as his own comfort was concerned. Not
that he cared for the iloriiis, save perliaps for lioiuohi's sake:
he would give up the llorius readily enough. It was tlie joy
that was due to liim and was close to liis lijts, which he felt he
Mas not bound to thrust away from him and travel on, thirst-
ing. Any maxims that retpiired a man to lling away the good
that was needed to make existence sweet were only the lining
of human selfishness turned outward : they were made by men
who wanted others to sacriiice themselves for their sake. He
would rather that Baldassarre should not suffer : he liked no
one to suffer : but could any philosophy prove to him that he
was bound to care for another's suffering more than hn- his
own y To do so, he must have loved Baldassarre devotedly,
and lie did not love him ; was that his own fault V Gratitude !
seen closely, it made no valid claim : liis father's life would
have been dreary without him : are we convicted of a debt to
men for the pleasure they give themselves?
Having once begun to explain away Baldassarre's claim,
Tito's thought showed itself as active as a virulent acid, eating
its ra])id way through all the tissues of sentiment. His mind
was destitute of that dread which has been erroneouslv decried
as if it were nothing higher than a man's animal care for his
own skin : that awe of the Divine Nemesis which was felt by
religious ])agans, and, though it took a more ])osilive form un-
der Christianity, is still felt by the mass of mankind simply .as
a vague fear at any thing which is called wrong-doing. Such
terror of the unseen is so far above mere sensual cowardice
that it will annihilate that cowardice: it is tlu> initial recogni-
tion of a moral law restraining desire, and checks the hard,
bold scrutiny of imjierfect thought into obligations which can
never be j)roved to havi' any sanctity in the absi-nce of feeling.
" It is good," sing the old Kumenides, in ^Eschylus, " that fear
should sit as the guardian of the soul, forcing it into wisdom —
good that men should carry a threatening shadow in their
hearts under the full sunshine; else, how shall they le:irn to
revere the right ?" That guardiajiship may become needless ;
but only when all outward law has l)ecome needless — only when
luty and love have united in one stream and made a common
iorce.
As Tito entered the outer cloister of San IMarco and in-
quired for Fra TiUca there was no shadowy prt'sentiment in
his mind; lie telt hiinsc'lf too cultured and skeptical for that:
he had been mirturesscssit)n of us with a rliythniic em-
pire that no sooner ceases than we desire it to begin again.
As lie trod the stone stairs, when he was still outsitle the
door, witli no one but Maso near liim,the intbience seemed to
have begun its work by tlie mere nearness ot anticipation.
" Welcome, Tilo mio,'' said the old man's voice, before Tito
had spoken. There was a new vigor in the voice, a new cheer-
fulness in the blind face, since that first intt'rview more than
two months ago. " You have brought fresh mamiscript,
doubtless; but since we were talking last night I have had
new ideas: we must take a wider scope — we must go back
iil>on our footste))s."
Tito, paying his homage to Romola as he advanced, went,
as his custom was, straight to Bardo's chair, and put his hand
in the palm that was held to receive it, placing himself on the
cross-leLrired leather seat with scrolled emls, close to Bardo's el-
bow.
"Yes," he said, in his gentle wav ; "I have brought the
new manuscript, but that can wait your |)leasure. 1 have
young limbs you know, and can walk back up the hill without
any difficulty."
He dill not look at Komola as he said this, but he knew
quite well that her eyes were fixed on him with delight.
"That is well said, my son." Bardo had alreadv addressed
Tito ill this way once or twice of late. "And I perceive with
glay Lorenzo Valla, for which the
incomparable Pope Nicholas V. — with whose peusonal notice
I Avas honored while I was yet young, and when he was still
Thomas of Sarzana — paid him (I say not unduly) the sum of
five hundred gold scudi. But inasmuch as Valla, though
otherw^ise of dubious fame, is held in high honor for his severe
scholarship, so that the epigrammatist has jocosely said of him
that since he went among the shades, Pluto himself has not
dared to speak in the ancient languages, it is the more need-
ful that his name should not be as a stamp warranting false
wares ; and therefore I would introduce an excursus on Tlmcyd-
ides, wherein my castigations of Valla's text may find a fit-,
ting place. Romola mia, thou wilt reach the needful volumes
— thou knowest them — on the fifth shelf of the cabinet."
Tito rose at the same moment with Romola, saying, "I
will reach them, if you will point them out," and followed her
hastily into the adjoining small room, where the walls were
also covered with ranges of books in j^erfect order.
"There they are," said Komola, pointing upward; "every
book is just where it was when my father ceased to see
them."
Tito stood by her Avithout hastening to reach the books.
They had never been in this room together before.
"I hope," she continued, turning her eyes full on Tito, with
I I ROMOLA.
.1 look of c^ravc confidence — "I hope he will not weary you;
this work makes him so happy."
"And me too, llornola — it you will only let me say, I love
you — if you will only think me worth lovinij^ a little."
His speech was the softest murmur, and the dark beautifu'i
face, nearer to hers than it had ever been before, was looking
at iicr with beseechini^ temleriiess.
"I do love you," murniurud Komola ; she looked at him
with the same simple majesty as ever, but her voice had never
in hxcr life before sunk to that murmur. It seemed to tliem
both that they were looking at each other a long while before
her lips moved again ; yet it was but a moment till she said,
•' I know noio what it is to be happy."
The faces just met, and the dark curls mingled for an in-
stant with the rippling gold, (^uick as lightning after that,
Tito set his foot on a projcctmg ledge of the book-shelves and
reached down the needful volumes. They were both content-
etl to be silent and separate, for that first blissful experience
of mutual consciousness was all the more extpiisite for being
unperturbed by immediate sensation.
It had all been as rapid as the irreversible mingling of
waters, for even the eager and jealous Bardo had not become
impatient.
"You have the volumes, my Romola?" the oM man said,
as they came near him again. " And now you will get your
pen ready; for, as Tito marks off the scholia wu determine on
e.Ktracting, it will be well for you to copy them without delay
— numbering them carefully, mind, to correspond with the
numl)ers he will ))Ut m the text he will write."
Romola always had some task which gave her a sliarc in
this joint work. Tito took his stand at the iei/;//o, where ho
V)ofh wrote and read, and she placed herself at a table just in
front of him, where she was ready to give into her father's
hands any thing that he might happen to want, or relieve him
of a vi)lmne that he had rathei*
of opinion that he christens private grudges by the name of
public zeal ; though I must admit that my good Bernardo is
too slow of belief in that unalloyed patriotism which was
found in all its lustre among the ancients. But it is true, Tito,
that our manners have degenerated somewhat from that noble
frugality which, as has been well seen in the public acts of
your citizens, is the parent of true magniticence. For men, as
I hear, will now spend on the transient sliow of a giostra sums
which would suffice to found a library, and confer a lasting
possession on mankind. Still, I conceive, it i-emains true of
lis Florentines that we have more of that magnanimous sobri-
ety which abhors a trivial lavishness that it may be grandly
open-handed on grand occasions, than can be found in any
other city of Italy ; for I understand that the Neapolitan and
Milanese courtiers laugh at the scarcity of our plate, and think
scorn of our great families for borrowing from each other thai
furniture of the table at their entertainments. But in the vain
laughter of folly wisdom hears half its applause."
"Laughter, indeed !" bu-rst forth Monna Brigida again, the
120 ROMOLA.
momeuL Bardo jKiuscd. " If any body wanted to hear laugh,
ter at tlio wedding to-day they were disappointed, for when
young Niccolo ."Maccliiavelli tried to make a joke, and told
stories out of Franco Sacohelti's book, liow it was no use for
the Signoria to make rules for us women, because we were
cleverer than all the painters, and architects, and doctors of
logic in the world, for we could make black look white,
and yellow look ])iuk, and crooked look straight, and, if any
thing was forbidden, we could find a new name for it — Holy
Virgin ! the piagnoiii looked more dismal than before, and
somebody said Sacchetti's book was wicked. Well, I don't read
it — they can't accuse me of reading any thing. Save me from
going to a wedding again if that's to be the fashion ; for all of
us who were not 2>iifanitt.
EOMOLA. 121
for the s^reat preachers Fra Mariano and Fra Menico had
shown how Fra Girolamo preached lies — and that was true,
for I heard them both in the Duonio — and how the Pope's
dream of San Francesco propping up the Church with liis arms
was being fulfilled still, and the Dominicans were beginning to
pull it down. Well and good : I went away con Dio, and
made myself easy. I am not going to be frightened by a Fi-ate
Predicatore again. And all I say is, I wish it hadn't been the
Dominicans that poor Dino joined years ago, for then I should
have been glad when I heard them say he was come back — "
" Silenzio !" said Bardo, in a loud, agitated voice, while
Romola half-started from her chair, clasped her hands, and
looked round at Titc, as if noin she miglit appeal to him.
JMonna Brigida gave a little scream and bit her lip.
" Donna !" said Bardo again, " hear once more my wilL
Bring no reports about that name to this house ; and thou,
Romola, I forbid thee to ask. My son is dead."
Bardo's whole fi-ame seemed vibrating with passion, and
HO one dared to break silence again. Monna Brigida lifted
iier shoulders and lier hands in mute dismay ; then she rose as
quietly as possible, gave many significant nods to Tito and
Romola, motioning to them that they were not to move, and
stole out of the room like a culpable fat spaniel who has barked
unseasonably.
Meanwhile, Tito's quick mind had been combining ideas
with lightning-like rapidity. Bardo's son was not really dead,
then, as he had supposed: he was a monk; he was "come
back :" and Fra Luca — yes ! it was the likeness to Bardo and
Romola that had made the face seem half-known to him. If
he were only dead at Fiesole at that moment ! This impor-
tunate selfish wish inevitably thrust itself before eveiy other
thought. It was true that Bardo's rigid will was a sufficient
safeguard against any intercourse between Romola and her
brother ; but not against the betrayal of what ho knew to oth-
ers, especially when the subject was suggested by the coupling
of Romola's name with that of the very Tito Melema whose
descri|>tion he had carried round his neck as an index. No !
nothing but Fra Luca's death could remove all danger ; but
his death was highly probable, and after the n^omentary shock
of the discovery, Tito let his mind fall back in repose on that
confident hope.
They had sat in silence, and in a. deepening twilight for
many minutes, when Romola ventured to say —
*■ Shall I light the lamp, father, and shall we go on ?"
-' No, my Romola, we will work no more to-night, Tito,
come and sit bv me heie."
V12 ' KOMOLA.
Tito inovfcl from the reatliiig-desk and seated luinself on
the other side of Jiardo dose to his left elbow.
"Come rieai'er to me, fi^liuola mia," said Hardo a^aiu, after
a moment's pause. Anil Komola seated herself on a low stool
and let her arm rest on Iier father's right knee, that he miardo,
Jor<^etting what had fallen from him in the emotion I'aised l.'y
'fheir first interview. The old man had been deeply shaken
and was foreed to ])our out his feelings in sj)ite of pride.
"JJut he left me — he is dead to me— 1 have disowned him
forever. lie was a ready scholar, as you are, but more fervid
iiinl impatient, and yet sometimes rapt and self-absorbed, like
a flame fed by some fitful source; showing a disposition from
the very iirst to turn awav his eves from the clear liiihts of
reason and philosophy, and to prostrate himself under the in-
fluences of a din\ mysticism which eludes all rules of human
duty as" it eludes all argument. And so it ended. We will
sjjcak no more of liim : he is dead to me. I wish his face
could be blotted from that world of memory in which the dis-
tant seems to grow clearer and the near to fade."
IJardo paused, but neither liomola nor Tito dared to speak
— ^his voice was too tremulous, the poise of his feelings too
doubtful. But he presently raised his hand, aiul found Tito's
shoulder to rest it on, while he went on speaking with an ef^
fort to be calmer.
"liut you have come to me, Tito — not quite too late. 1
will lose no moio time in vain regret. "When you are work-
ing by my side I seem to have found a son again."
Tlie old man, preoccupied with the governing interest of
his life, was only thinking of the much-meditated book whiclj
had (piite thrust into the background (he suggestion, raised
by ]k'iiiartlo del Xero's waining, t)f a ])ossible marriage be-
tween Tito ami Uomola. But Tito could not allow the mo-
ment to |)ass unused.
" Will you let me be always and altogether your son ?
"Will you let me take care of Koniola — be her husband V I
think she will not deny rae. She has said she loves me. 1
know I am not ('<|ual to her in birth — in any thing; but T am
no longer a destitute; stranger. '
"Is it true, my Romola?" said Bardo, in a lower tone, an
evident viliration jiassing through him ainl dissipating the
sadilcne*! aspect of his features.
"Yes, father," said Bomola, firmly. "I love Tito— I wisfi
to marry him, that we may be both your children and nevei
part."
ROMOLA. 123
Tito's liaiid met hers in a strong clasp for the first time
nliile she was speaking, but their eyes "were fixed anxiously on
her fatlier.
" Why should it not be ?" said Bardo, as if arguing against
any opposition to his assent, rather than assenting. " It would
be a happiness to me ; and thou, loo, Komola, Avouldst be the
happier for it."
He stroked her long hair gently and bent towai'ds
her.
"Ah, I have been apt to forget that thou needest some
other love than mine. And thou wilt be a noble wife. Ber-
nardo thinks I shall hardly find a husband fitting for thee.
And he is perhaps right. For thou art not like the herd of
thy sex : thou art such a woman as the immortal poets had a
vision of, when they sang the lives of the heroes — tender
but strong, like thy voice, which has been to me instead of
the light iu the years of my blindness — And so thou lovest
him ?"
He sat upright again for a minute and then said, in the
same tone as before, " Why should it not be ? I will think of
At; I will talk with Bernardo."
Tito felt a disagreeable chill at this answer, for Bernardo
ilel ISTero's eyes had retained their keen suspicion whenever
Jiey looked at him, and the uneasy reraembi-ance of Fra Luca
converted all uncertainty into fear.
" Speak for me, Roniola," he said, pleadingly. " Messer
Bernardo is sure to be against me."
" Xo, Tito," said Romola, " my godfather will not oppose
what my father firmly wills. And it is your will that I should
marry Tito — is it not true, father? Nothing has ever come
to me before that I have wished for strongly : I did not think
it possible that I could care so much for any thing that could
happen to myself."
It was a brief and simple plea; but it was the condensed ; :
story of Romola's self-repressing colorless young life, which / I
liad thrown all its passion into sympathy with aged sorrows, ■ /
aged ambition, aged pride and 'indignation. It had never ' /
occurred to Romola that she should not speak as directly
and emphatically of her love for Tito as of any other sub-
ject.
" Romola mia !" said her father fondly, pausing on the
words, " it is true thou hast never urged on me any wishes of
thy own. And I have no will to resist thine ; rather, my heart
met Tito's entreaty at its very first utterance. Nevertheless,
I must talk with Bernardo about the measures needful to be
observed. For we must not act in haste, or do any thing un«
I.
124 ItOMOLA.
beseeming my name. I am jioor, ami held of little account
by tlio wealthy of our family — nay, I may consider myself a
ionely man — Imt I must nevertheless remember that gener-
ous birth has its obligations. A?id I would not Ix' rei)r()ach-
od by mv fellow -citizens for rash haste in bestowinut love is not always to be
fed on learning, eh? I shall have to ilress the zazzera for the
betrothal before long — is it not true?"
" Perhaps," said Tito, smiling, " unless Messer Bernardo
should next recommend Bardo to require that I should yoke a
EOMOLA. 12 "7
fion and a wild boar to the car of the Zecca before I can win
my Alcestis ; though I confess he is right in holding me un-
worthy of Romola; sl\e is a Pleiad that may grow dim by
marrying any mortal."
'' Gnajfd, your modesty is in the right place there. Yet
Fate seems to have measured and chiselled you for the niche
that was left empty by the old man's son, who, by-the-way,
Cronaca was telling me, is now at San Marco. Did you
know?"
A slight electric shock passed through Tito as he rose from
the chair, but it was not outwardly perceptible, for he imme-
diately stooped to pick up the fallen book, and busied his fin-
gers with flattening tlie leaves, while he said,
" No : he was at Fiesole, I thought. Are you sure he is
come back to San Marco ?''
" Cronaca is my authority," said Nello, with a shrug. " I
don't frequent that sanctuary, but he does. Ah," he added,
takijig the bool: from Tito's hands, " my poor Nencia da Bar-
berino ! It jars your scholarly feelings to see the pages dog's-
eared. I was lulled to sleep by the well-rhymed charms of
that rustic maiden — ' prettier than the turnip flower,' ' with a
check more savory than cheese.' But to get such a well-scent-
ed notion of the contadina one must lie on velvet cushions in
the Via Larga — not go to look at the Fierucoloni stumping in
to the Piazza della Xunziata this evening after sundown."
" And pray who ai-e the Fierucoloni ?" said Tito, indiffer-
ently, settling his cap.
" The contadine who come from the mountains of Pistoia,
and the Casentino, and Heaven knows where, to keep their
vigil in the church of the Nunziata and sell their yarn and
dried mushrooms at the Fierucola (petty fair), as Ave call it.
They make a queer show, with their paper lanterns, howling
their hymns to the Virgin on this eve of her nativity — if you
had the leisure to see them. No ? — well, I have had enough
of it myself, for there is wild work in the Piazza. One may
happen to get a stone or two about one's ears or shins without
asking for it, and I was never fond of that j^ressing attention.
Addio."
Tito carried a little uneasiness with him on his visit, which
ended earlier than he had expected, the boy-cardinal Giovanni
de' Medici, youngest of red-hatted fathei'S, who has since pre-
sented his broad dark cheek very conspicuously to posterity as
Pope Leo the Tenth, having been detained at his favorite pas-
time of the chase, and having failed to appear. It still wanted
half an hour of sunset as he left the door of the Scala palace,
with the intention of proceeding forthwith to the Via de'
I2S ROMOLA.
Jianli, but Ik' had not tjono iar wlioii, tf» his asfoiiislmiont, he
saw Uoinola advaiu-iuuc towards liim ahoig the lior^o IMuti.
ISlie wore a thick black veil and black mantle, Imt it was
impossible to mistake her iitxure and her walk; and by her
si«^le was a short, st.out form, whicli he recognized as tiiat of
Monna Brigida, in s}»ile of the unusual jdainness of her attire.
Komola had not been bred up to devotional observances, and
the occasions on which she took the air elsewhere than under
the loggia on the root ot the house were so raie and so much
dwelt on beforehand, because of Bardo's dislike to be left
without her, that Tito felt sure there miist have been some
Budden and urgent ground for an absence of whicli he had
heard nothing the day before. Slie saw liim through her veil
and hastenetl her steps.
" lioniola, has any thing happened ?'' said Tito, turning to
walk by he)- side
She did not answer at the first moment, and Monna lirigida
broke in.
"Ah, Messer Tito, you do well to turn round, f(»i- avc are in
haste. And is it not «i misfortime? we are obliged to go
round by the walls and turn up the Via del Maglio, because
of the Flcru ; for the contadine coming in block up the way
by the Nunziata, which would have taken us to S.m Marco in
half the time."
Tito's heart gave a great bound, and began to beat vio-
fentl}-.
'- Ikomola," he said, in a lower tone, " are you going to San
Marco?"
They were now out of the Borgo Pinti and were under the
city walls, where tliey had wide gardens on their left hand,
and all was quiet. IJomola put aside her veil for the sake of
breathing the air, and ho could see the subdued agitation in
lier face.
" Ves, Titomio,^'' she said, looking directly at him with sad
eyes. " For the first time I am doing something m\known to
my fatlier. It comforts me that I have met you, for at least I
can tell you. But if you are going to him it will be well for
you not to say that you met me. He thinks I am only gone
to the ciiffUK I, hQCMXfic she sent for me. I left my godfather
with him : Jic knows Avhere I rmi going, and why. A on re-
member that evening wlien my brother's name was mentioned
and my fathi-r spoke of him to you ?"
" Yes," saitl Tito, in a low tone. There was n strange com-
plication in his mental state. I lis heart sank at the probabil-
ity tliat a great change was coming over his prospects, while
at the same time his thoughts were darting over a huiulied
ROMOLA. 129
details of the course he avouKI take when the change had corae
— and yet he returned Romohi's gaze with a hungry sense
that it uiight be the last time she would ever bend it on him
with full, unquestioning confidence.
" The cuglna had heard that he was come back, and the
evening before — the evening of San Giovanni — as I afterwards
found,"he had been seen by our good Maso near the door of
our house ; but when Maso went to inquire at San Marco,
'Dino, that is, my brother — he was christened Bernardino,
after our godfather, but now he calls himself Fra Luca — had
been taken to the monastery at Fiesole, because he was ill.
But this morning a message came to ]\Iaso, saying that he
was come back to San Marco, and Maso went to him there.
He is very ill, and he has adjured me to go and see hmi. I
can not refuse it, though I liold him guilty ; I still remember
l)0\v I loved him when I was a little girl, before I knew that
he would forsake my father. And perhaps he has some word
of penitence to send by me. It cost me a struggle to act in
opposition to my father's feeling, which I have always held to
be just. I am almost sure you will think I have chosen right-
Ij', Tito, because I have noticed that your nature is less rigid
than mine, ami nothing makes you angry : it would cost you
less to be forgiving; though, if you had seen your father for-
saken by one to whom he had given his chief love — by one in
whom he liad planted his labor and his hopes — forsaken when
his need was becoming greatest — even you, Tito, would find it
hard to forgive."
Wha't could he say ? He was not equal to the hypocrisy
of telling Romola that such offenses ought not to be pardon-
ed ; and he had not the courage to utter any words of dissua-
sion.
" You are right, my Romola ; you are always right, except
in thinking too well of me."
There Avas really some genuineness in those last words, and
Tito looked very beautiful as he uttered them, with an unusual
pallor in his fa(;e, and a shght quivering of his lip. Romola,
interpreting all things largely, like a mind prepossessed with
hiuh belief, had a tearful bri<2;htness in her eyes as she looked
at them, touched with a keen joy that he felt so strongly Avhat^
ever she felt. But Avithout pausing in her walk, she said,
" And now, Tito, I wish you to leave me, for the cugina and
I shall be less noticed if we enter the piazza alone."
" Yes, it were better you should leave us," said Monna
Brigida; "for to say the truth, Messer Tito, all eyes follow
you, and let Romola muflle herself as she will, every one wants
to see what there is mider her veil, for she has that Avay of
6*
1 30 ROMOLA,
walkiiiLT like a procession. Not llial I find fault with her for
it, only it doesn't suit my steps. Ami, indeed, I would rather
nut have iis seen going to San ^lareo, and tliat's why I am
dressed as if I were one of \\\c piagnoni themselves, and as old
as Sant' Anna; for if it liad been any body but jjoor Dino,
who ought to be forgiven if he's "lying, for what's the use of
having a grudge against dead people? — make them feel while
they live, say I — "
No one made a scruple of interrupting Monna Brigida, and
Tito, having just raised liomohi's hand to his lips, and said,
" I understand, I obey you," now turned away, lifting his cap
— a sign of leverence raixly made at that time by native Flor-
entines, ami which excited liernardo del Nero's contempt for
Tito as a fawning Greek ; while to Komola, who loved hom-
age, it gave him an e.vcej^tional grace.
He was lialf glad of the dismissal, half disposed to cling to
Romola to the last moment in which she would love him with.
out suspicion. For it seemed to him certain that this brother
would before all things want to know, and that Komola would
before all things confide to him, what was her father's ]K)sitioi!i
and her own after the years which must have brought so much
change. She would tell him that she was soon to be publicly
betrothed to a young scholar, who was to fill np the place left
vacant long ago by a wandering son. lie foresaw the impulse
that would prompt Komola to dwell on that prospect, and what
would follow on the mention of the future husband's name.
Fra Luca would tell all he knew and conjectured, and Tito saw
no possible falsity by which he could now ward off the worst
consequences of his former dissimulation. It was all over
with his prospects in Florence. There was Messer Inrnardo
del Nero, who would be delighted at seeing cotiHnned the wis-
dom of his advice about deferring the l)etrothal until Tito's
character and position had been established by a longer resi-
dence ; and the history of the young (Jrcek ])rofessor, whose
benefactor was in slavery, would be the talk under every log-
gia. For the first time in his life he felt too fevered and agi-
t:ite,
without any distinct ])urpose, he took the iirst turning, which
ha|)]'cn»'il to be the Via San Scbastiam*. leading him directly to-
wards tlie Piazza di'H' Annunziata. He was at one of those
lawless moments which come to us all if we have no guide but
desire, and the pathway where desire leads us seems suddenly
closeiping boyish voices,
the beating of nacchere or drums, and the ringing of little
bells, met each other in confused din. Every now and then
one of the dim floating lights disappeared with a smash from
a stone lanced more or less vaguely in pursuit of mischief, fol-
lowed by a scream and renewed shouts. But on the outskirts
of the whirling tumult there were groups who were keeping
this vigil of the Xativity of the Virgin in a more methodical
manner than by fitful stone -tlirowing and gibing. Certain
ragged men, darting a hard, sharp glance around them while
their tongues rattled merrily, were inviting country people to
game with them on fair and open-handed terms ; two mas-
querading figures on stilts, who had snatched lanterns from
the crowd, were swaying the lights to and fro in meteoric
fashion, as they strode hither and thither; a sage trader was
doing a profitable business at a small covered stall, in hot bo--
lingozzi, a favorite farinaceous delicacy ; one man standing on
a barrel, with his back firmly planted against a pillar of the
loggia in front of the Foundling Hosjutal {Spedale degV Inno-
eentl), was selling efficacious pills, invented by a doctor of Sa-
lerno, warranted to prevent toothache and death by drowning ;
and not far off, against another pillar, a tumbler was showing
off his tricks on a small platform ; while a handful of 'pren-
tices, despising the slack entertainment of guerrilla stone-
throwing, were having a private concentrated match of that
1:32 i:<>.i(ii,A.
f.iNoiitf Floicntiiie 8j>ort at the narrow cntrancf of the \ ia
lU;' Fcbbrai.
Tito, obliged to make his way throngli chance openings in
the crowd, found liiniself at one moment close to the trotting
procession of bare-footed, hard-heeled contadine, and could see
their sun-dried, bronzed faces, and their strange fragnu-ntaiy
garb, dim with hereditary dirt, and of obsolete stuffs and fash-
ions, that make them look, in the eyes of the city ])eople, like
a ■wavworn ancestry returning from a i)ilgriniage on which
they had set out a century ago. Just then it was the hardy,
scant-feeding peasant-women -from the mountains of Pistola,
who were entering with a year's labor in a moderate bundle
on their backs, and in their heaits that meagre hope of good
and that wide dim fear of harm, which were somehow to be
cared for by the Blessed Virgin, whose miracidous image,
])ainted by the angels, was to have the curtain drawn away
from it on this Eve of her Nativity, that its potency might
stream forth without obstruction.
At another moment he was forced away towards the bound-
ary of the jiiazza, Avhere tlie more stationary cantlidates fur at-
tention and small coin had judiciously ])laced themselves, in
order to be safe in their rear. Among these Tito recognized
his acquaintance IJratti, who stood with his l)ack against^a
pillar and his mouth pursed up in disdainfid silence, eying
every one who approached him with a cold glance of suj)erior-
ity, and keejiing his hand fast on a serge covering, which c<^»n-
cealed the contents of the basket slung before him. Mather
surprised at a deportment so niuisual in an anxious trader,
Tito went nearer and saw^ two women go nji to Jiratti's basket
with a look of curiosity, whereupon the jieddler dicw the cov-
ering tighter, and lonkeil anolhei' way. It was (piite too pro-
voking, and one of the women Avas fain to ask what there was
in his basket ?
"IJefore I answer that, Momia, I must know whether you
mean to buy. I can't show such wares as mine in this fair
for every fly to settle on and pay nothing. My goods are a
little too choice for that. liesidcs I've only two left, and I've
no mind to sell them; for with the ciiances of the jtestilence
Lliat wise men talk of, there is likelihood of their being worth
theii- weight in gold. No, no ; andate con JJio.'^
The two women looked at each other.
"And what may be the price V" said the second.
"Not within what you are likely to have in vour ))nrse,
bnona domia," said IJratti, in a jection to hear what your Genoese will -offer.
But when and where shall I have speech of him ?"
" To-morrow, at three hours after sunrise, he will be at my
shop, and if your wits are of that sharpness I have always taken
them to be, Messer Greco, you will ask him a lieavy price. P'or
he minils not moiu'V ; it's my belief he's buying for sonu-body
else, and not for himself — perhaps for some great signor."
"SSYrt hene^'' said Tito. " I will be at your shop if nothing
hinders."
"And you will doubtless deal iu>bly by me for old ac-
:piaintance' sake, Messer Greco, eo I will not stay to fix the
RO-MOLA. 1 o5
small sum you will give me in token of my service in the mat-
ter. It seems to me a tliousand years now till I get out o£
the piazza, for a fair is a dull, not to say a wicked thing, when
one has no more goods to sell."
Tito made a hasty sign of assent and adieu, and moving
away from the pillar, again found himself pushed towards the
middle of the piazza and back again, without the power of
determining his own course. In this zigzag way he was
carried along to the end of the piazza opposite the church,
where, in a deep recess formed by an irregularity in the line
of houses, an entertainment was going forward which seemed
to be especially attractive to the crowd. Loud bursts of
laughter interrupted a monologue which was sometimes slow
and oratorical, at others rattling and buffoonish. Here a girl
Avas being pushed forward into the inner circle with apparent
reluctance, and tliere a loud laughing minx was finding a way
with her own elbows. It was a strange light that was spread
over the [liazza. There were the pale stars breaking out above„
and the dim waving lanterns below, leaving all objects indis-
tinct except when they were seen close under the fitfully mov-
ing lights , but in this recess there was a stronger light,
against which the heads of the encircling spectators stood in
dark relief as Tito was gradually pushed towards them, while
above them rose the head of a man wearing a white mitre with
yellow cabalistic figures upon it.
'•Behold, my children!" Tito heard him saying; "behold
your opportunity ? neglect not the holy sacrament of matri-
mony when it can be had for the small sum of a white quat-
trino — the cheapest matrimony ever offei'ed, and dissolved by
special bull beforehand at every man's own will and pleasure.
Behold the bull !" Here the speaker held up a piece of parch-
ment witli huge seals attached to it. " Behold the Indulgence
granted by his Holiness Alexander the Sixth, who, being new-
ly elected Pope for his peculiar piety, intends to reform and
purify the Church, and wisely begins by abolishing that priest-
ly abuse which keeps too large a share of this privileged niatr:'-
mony to the clergy'and stints the laity. Spit once, my sons,
and pay a white quattrino ! This is the whole and sole price
of the indulgence. The quattrino is the only difference the
Holy Father allows to be put any longer between us and the
cle"gy — who spit and pay nothing."
Tito thought he knew the voice, which had a peculiarly
sharp ring, but the face was too much in shadow from the
lights behind for him to be sure of the features. Stepping as
near as he could, he saw within the circle behind the speaker
an altar-like table raised on a small platform, and covered w'Ah
I3tJ UOMOLA.
n rod ilrapc'vy stitolR'(l all over with yellow cabalistii-al fiijnres.
Half a dozen thin tapers burned at the back of tliis table,
whieli had a conjuring ai)i)aratus scattered over it, a larg'j
open book in the centre, and at one of tlie front ani^les a
nionkev fastened bv a cord to a small rincc and liohJinir a
Hniall taj»er, which in ids incessant lidgety movcnu-nts fell
more or less aslant, while an ini])isli boy in a white surplice
occupied himself chietiy in culHni; the monkey and ailjustiiiL':
the taper. The man in the mitre also wore a surplice, and
over it a chasuble on which the signs of the zodiac were rude-
ly marked in black ui)on a yellow grountl. Tito was sure now
that he recognized the sliarp, upward-tentling angles of the face
ander the mitre : it was that of ^laestro \'aiano, the eerretiaio,
from \\ iiom lie had rescued Tessa. l*retty little Tessa ! Per«
haps she too had come in among the troops of contadine/
'' Come, my maidens ! This is the time for the pretty who
can liave manv chances, and for the ill-favored who have few.
Matrimony to be had liot, eaten, and done with as easily as
hcrliyKjitzzi! And see !" here the conjuror lield u]) a cluster
of tiny bags. "To every bride I give a Jirtce with a secret
in it — the secret alone worth the money you pay for the matri-
mony. The secret how to — no, no, I will not tell you what
the secret is about, and that makes it adoul)le secret. Hang
it round your neck if you like, and never look at it; I don't
say that will not be the best, for then you will see many things
you don't expect: though if you open it (you may lireak your
leg — t vera), but you will know a secret ! Something nobody
knows but me ! And mark — I give you the Jirrre, I don't
sell it, as many another holy man would : the quattrino is for
the matrimony, and the Jh'tve you get for nothing. Orsit,
f//ortn)t(tt\ come like dutiful sons of the Church aiul buy the
intlulgence of his Holiness Alexander the Sixth."
This buffoonery just fitted the taste of the autlience : the
^fierucola was but a small occasion, so the townsmen might be
contented with jokes that were rather less indecent than those
they were accustomed to hear at every carnival, i)ut into easy
rhyme by the ^NfaLrnifico and liis ]>oetic salcllites; while the
.vonien, over and above any relish of the lun, really began to
have an itch for the lirevi. Several couples had already gone
(hrouirh the ceremonv, in Avhich the conjuror's solemn gibber-
ish and grimaces over the open book, the antics of ihi! nion-
tey, and even the ))ri'rMninary spitting, had called forth ))eals
of lauifhfcr; and now .-i well-looking, mcM'rv-eved youth of
Peventeen, in a loose tunic and :i led cap, pushed forward,
holding by the hand a plump brunette, whose scanty ragged
dress displayed her round arms and legs very picturesquely.
ROMOLA. 137
" Fetter us without delay, maestro !" said the youth, " for
I have got to take my bride home and paint her under the
light of a lantern."
" Ha ! Mariotto, my son, I commend your pious observ-
ance " The conjuror was going on, when a loud chatter-
ing behind Avarned him tlmt an unpleasant crisis had arisen
'with his monkey.
The temper of that imperfect acolyth Avas a little tried by
*:he over-active discipline of his colleague in the surplice, and
a sudden cuff administered as his taper fell to a horizontal posi=
tion, caused him to leap back with a violence that proved too
much for the slackened knot by which his cord was fastened.
His first leap Avas to the other end of the table, from Avhich
position his remonstrances were so threatening that the imp in
the surplice took up a wand by way of an equivalent threat,
whereupon the monkey leaped on to the head of a tall woman
in the foreground, dropping his taper by the way, and chat-
tering Avith increased emphasis from that eminence. Great
Avas the screaming and confusion, not a few of the spectators
having a vague dread of the Maestro's monkey, as capable of
more hidden mischief than mere teeth and claws could inflict ;
and the conjuror himself Avas in some alarm lest any harm
should happen to his familiar. In the scuffle to seize the mon-
key's string Tito got out of the circle, and, not caring to con-
tend for his place^ again, he allowed himself to be gradually
pushed towards the church of the Xunziata, and to enter among
the worshippers.
The brilliant illumination Avithin seemed to press upon his
eyesAvith palpable force after the pale scattered lights and broad
shadoAvs of the piazza, and for the first minute or two he could
see nothing distinctly. That yelloAV splendor Avas in itself
something supernal and heavenly to some of the peasant-Avom-
en, for Avhom half the sky Avas hidden by mountains, and who
went to bed in the twilight ; and the uninterrupted chant f '-om
the choir Avas repose to the ear after the hellish hubbub of the
crowd outside. Gradually the scene became clearer, though
still there Avas a thin yellow haze from incense mingling Avith
,the breath of the multitude. In a chapel on the left hand of
' ihe nave, Avreathed with silver lamps, Avas seen unveiled the
miraculous fresco of the Annunciation, Avhich, in Tito's oblique
view of it from the right-hand side of the nave, seemed dark
Avith the excess of liglit around it. The whole area of the
great church Avas filled Avith peasant-women, some kneeling,
some standing ; the coarse bronzed skins and the dingy clotli-
ing of the rougher dwellers on the mountains contrasting Avitii
the softer-lined faces and white or red liead-drapery of tlic
138 UOMOLA.
Mt'll-to-do (1\v('1Um-s ill tlie valley, who were scattered in irregu-
lar groups. Ami spreading liigli and far over tlie walls aiui
ceiling tliere was another innllitude, also j)ressing el<»se against
each other, that they might be nearer the potent \'irgin: it
was the crowd of votive waxen images, the elligies of great
peisonages, dotheil in their liahit as they lived : Florentines
of high name in their black silk lucco, as when they satin coun-
cil ; popes, emperors, kings, cardinals, ainl famous condottieri
with ])lumed morion seated on their cliargers ; all notable
strangers who passed through Florence or had aught to «lo with
its affairs — Mohammedans, even, in well-tolerated companion-
ship with Christian cavaliers ; some of them with faces black-
ened and robes tattci-ed by the corroding breath of centuries,
others fresh and bright in new red mantle or steel corselet,
the exact doubles of the living. And wedged in with all these
were detached arms, legs, hands, and other mcjnbers, with only
here and there a gap where soiiu- image had Ijeen removeil lor
jMiblic disgrace, or had fallen ominously, as Lorenzo's had done
six months before. It was a j^erfect resurrection-swarm of
remote mortals and fragments of mortals, rejecting, in their
varying degrees of freshness, the sombre dinginess and si)rin-
kled brightness of the crowd below.
Tito's glance wanderetl over the wide multitude in search
of something. lli^ had already thought of Tessa, and the
white hoods suggested the possibility that he might detect her
face under one of them. It was at least a thovight to be court-
ed rather than tlie vision of Itomola looking at him with
changed eyes. V>\\i he searched in vain; and he was leaving
the church, weary of a scene which had no variety, when, just
against the ressed in her attitude : her lips were pressed j^out-
iuLjIv toiri'tlicr, and every now and then her eyelids half fell :
she was a laige image of a sweet sleei)y child, Tito felt an
irresistible desire to go up to her and get her pretty trusting
looks and prattle : this creature, who was without moral judg-
nu'nts that could coiidcmn him. whose little loving ignorant
soul made a world apart, wheru he might feel in freedom from
EOMOLA. 139
suspicious and exacting demands, had a new attraction for
him now. She seemed a refusje from the threatened isohition
that wouhl come with disgrace. He glanced cautiously round
to asstire himself tliat Monna Ghita was not near, and then,
slipping quietly to her side, kneeled on one knee, and said in
the softest voice, ''Tessa i"
She hardly started, any more than she would have started at
a soft breeze that fanned her gently Avhen she Avas needing it.
She turned her head and saw Tito's face close to hei-, very
much more beautiful than the Archangel Michael, Avho was so
mighty and so good that he lived with the Madonna and all
the saints, and was prayed to along with them. She smiled in
happy silence, for that nearness of Tito quite filled her mind.
" My little Tessa ! you look very tired. How long have you
been kneeling here ?"
She. seemed to be collecting her thoughts for a minute or
two, and at last she said :
" I'm very hungry."
" Come then ; come with nie."
He lifted her from her knees, and led her out under the
cloisters surrounding tlie atrium, which were then opened, and
not yet adorned with the frescoes of Andrea del Sarto.
" How is it you are all by yourself, and so hungry, Tessa ?"
" The madre is ill ; she has very bad pains in her legs, and
sent me to bring these cocoons to the Santissima Nunziata,
because they're so wonderful ; see !" — she held up the bunch
of cocoons, which were arranged with fortuitous regularity on
a stem — " and she had kept them to bring them herself, but
she couldn't, and so she sent me because she thinks the Holy
Madonna may take away her pains ; and somebody took my
bag with the bread and chestnuts in it, and the people pushed
me back, and I was so frightened coming in the crowd, and I
couldn't get anywhere near the Holy Madonna, to give the
cocoons to the^paf?re, but I must — oh, I must !"
" Yes, my little Tessa, you shall take them ; but come first
and let me give you some berlingozzi. There are some to be
had not far off."
" Where did you come from ?" said Tessa, a little bewilder-
ed. '^ I thought you would never come to me again, because
you never came to the JNIercato for milk any more. I set my-
self Aves to say, to see if they would bring you back, but I left
off because they didn't."
'• You see I come when you Avant some one to take care of
you, Tessa. Perhaps the Aves fetched me, only it took them
a long while. But what shall you do if you are here all alone ?
Where shall you go?"
1 40 IJOMOI.A,
" Oh, I sliall stay and sleep in the clinrch — a ijrcat many of
tlieni do — in tliu cluirch and all alxMit licre — I did once Mhen
I came witli my niotlier ; and tlie patriijno is coming with the
mules in the morning."
They were out in the piazza now, where tlie crowd was rath-
er less viotons tlian before, and the lights were fewer, the sf rer.m
of pilgrims having ceased. Tessa clung fast to Tito's arm in
satisfied silence, Avhile he led her towards tbe stall where he
remembered seeing the eatables. Their way was the easier be-
cause there was just now a great rush towards tlie middle of
the piazza, where the masked figures on stilts had found s[iace
to execute a dance. It was very pretty to see the guileless
thing giving her cocoons into Tito's liaiid and then eating her
berlliujozzl with the relish of a hungry child. Tito had leally
come to take care of her, as he did before, and that wonderful
hapi)iness of being with him had begun again for her. Iler
lir.iiger was soon appeased, all the sooner for the new stimulus
of happiness that had roused her from her languor ; and as
they turned away from the stall she said nothing about going
into the church again, but looked round as if thi' sights in the
piazza were not without attraction to hei' now she was safe
under Tito's arm.
" How can they do that?" she exclaimed, looking up at the
dancers on stilts. Then, after a mimite's silence, *' Do you
think Saint Christo])hcr lielps them ?"
" Perhaps. What do you think about it, Tessa ?" said Tito,
slipping his right arm round her, and looking down at her
fondly.
" Because Saint Christoidier is so very tall ; and lie is very
good: if any body looks at him he takes care of them all day.
He is on the wall of the church — too tall to stand up theie —
but I saw him walking through the streets one San tiiovanni,
carrying the little 6^es«>."
"'You ])retty ])igeon ! Do yon think any body could help
taking care of yon, if you looketl at them V"
" Shall you always come and take care of me?" said Tessa,
turning her face up to him as he crushed her cheek with his
left hand. " And shall you always be a long while first?"
Tito was conscious that some by-standers were laughing at
them, and though the license of street fun among artists and
young men of the wealthier sort, as well as among the popu-
lace, made few adventures exceptional, still less disi-eputable,
he chosi' to move away towar!ieir 1 :n-U.s upon
ROM OLA. 141
him it Avoiild be pleasant to have this little creature adoring
him and nestling^ asrainst him. The absence of presumptuous
self-conceit in Tito made him feel all the more defenseless un-
der prospective obloquy : he needed soft looks and caresses
too much ever to be impudent.
" In the Mercato ?" said Tessa. " Not to-morrow morning,
because the patricjno will be there, and he is so cross. Oh !
but you have money, and he will not be cross if you buy some
salad. And there are some chestnuts. Do you like chestnuts ?"
He said nothing, but continued to look down at her with a
dreamy gentleness, and Tessa felt herself in a state of delicious
wonder ; every thing seemed as new as if she Avere being car-
ried on a chariot of clouds.
" Santissbna Vergine P'' she exclaimed again, presently ;
" there is a holv father like the Bishop I saw at Prato."
Tito looked up too, and saw that he had unconsciously ad-
vanced to within a few yards of the conjuror. Maestro Vaia-
no, who, for the monient, was forsaken by tlie crowd. His face
was turned away from them, and he was occui)ied with the ap-
paratus on his altar or table, preparing a new diversion by the
time the interest in the dancing should be exhausted. The
monkey was imprisoned under the red cloth, out of reach of
mischief, and the youngster in the white surplice was holding
a sort of dish or salver, from which his master was taking some
ingredient. The altar-like table, with its gorgeous cloth, the
row of tapers, the sham episcopal costume, the surpliced at-
tendant, and even the very movements of the mitred figure,
as he alternately bent his head and then raised something be-
fore the lights, were a sufficiently near parody of sacred things
to rouse poor little Tessa's veneration ; and there Avas some ad-
ditional awe produced by the mystery of their apparition in
this spot, for when she had seen an altar in the street before,
it had been on Corpus Christi Day, and there had been a pro-
cession to account for it. She crossed herself, and looked up
at Tito, but then, as if she had had time for reflection, said,
" It is because of the jVativitd.''''
Meanwhile Vaiano had turned round, raising his hands to
his mitre with the intention of changing his dress, when his
^uick eye recognized Tito and Tessa, who were both looking
at him, their faces being shone upon by the light of his tapers
while his own was in shadow.
" Ha ! my children !" he said, instantly, stretching out his
hands in a benedicloi'v attitude, " you are come to be married.
I con:iraend your penitence — the blessing of Holy Church can
never come too late.
But while he was- speaking he had taken in the whole raeau-
142 i:oMOLA.
ir.r; of Tessa's attitude and expression, ami he discerned an op.
portunity for a new ki'nl of joku which required Iriia to be
cautious and sulciun.
''Sliould you like to be married to nie, Tessa!" said Tito,
softly, half enjoying the comedy, as lie saw the pretty cliildi.sh
seriousness on her face, lialf iirom|)ted by hazy previsio:w
which belonged to the intoxication of despair.
He felt her vibrating before she looked u]) at him and said,
imidly, "Will you let me V"
lie answered only by a smile, and Ijy leading lier forward
in front of the crmta/w, who seenig an excellent jest in Tes-
sa's evident delusion, assumed a sui-passing sacerdotal solem-
nity, and went tlirough the mimic ceremony with a liberal ex-
penditure of linf/ita furbtsca or thieves' Latin. I>ut some
symptoms of a new movement ni the crowd urged him to brin<'
it to a speedy conclusion and dismiss them with hands out-
stretched in a benedictory attitude over their kneeling figures.
Tito, disposed always to cultivate good-will, though it might
be the least select, put a piece of fou.' f/rossl into liis hand as
he moved away, and was thanked by a look which, the conjur-
or felt sure, conveyed a perfect understanding of the whole af-
fair.
But Tito himself was very far from that understanding, and
did not, in fact, know whefher, the next nu)ment, he should
tell Tessa of the joke and laugh at her for a little ltooso, or
whether he should let her delusion last, and see what would
come of it — see what she would say and do next.
"Then you will not go away from me again," said Tessa,
after they had walked a few stei)s, " and you will take me to
\yhere you live." She spoke meditatively, and not in a ques-
tioning tone. But presently slie added,"! must go back once
to tlie vnidre, though, to tell her T brouglit the cocoons, and
that I'm marrieil, and shall not go back again."
Tito felt the necessity of speaking now; and, in the rapid
thouirht prompted by that necessity, lie saw that l>y undeceiv-
ing Tessa he should be robl)ing himself of some at least of
that pretty trustfulness which might, by-and-by, be his only
haven from contempt. It would spoil Tessa to make lier the
least particle wiser or more sus))icious.
" \ es, my little Tessa," he said, caressingly, "you must go
back to the madrr : but you must not tell her you are married
— you must kee]> that a secret from every body; else some
very great harm would happen to me, and you'would never
see me again."
She looked up at him with pale fear in her face.
" You must go l)ack and feed your goats and mules, and do
ROMOLA. 143
just as you have always done before, and say no word to any
one about me."
The corners of her mouth fell a little.
"And then, perhaps, I shall come and take care of you
again when you want nie, as I did before. But you must do
just what I tell you, else you Mill not see me again."
" Yes, I will, I will," she said in a loud whisper, frightened
at that blank prospect.
They were silent a little while, and then Tessa, looking at
her hand, said,
" The madre wears a betrothal ring. She went to church
and had it put on, and then after that, another day, she was
married. And so did the cousin Xannina. But then she mar-
ried Gollo," added the poor little thing, entangled in the diffi-
cult comparison between her own case and others within her
experience,
" But you must not wear a betrothal ring, my Tessa, because
no one must know you are married," said Tito, feeling some
insistance necessary. " And the buona fortuna I gave you
did just as well for betrothal. Some people are betrothed
svith rings and some are not."
" Yes, it is true, they would see the ring," said Tessa, try-
"ing to convince herself that a thing she would like very mucli
was really not good for hei'.
They were now near the entrance of the church ag; in, and
she remembered her cocoons, which were still in Tito'> hand.
" Ah, you must give me the 60^0," she said ; " and we must
go in, and I must take it to \\\q ^Kidre, and I must tell tiie rest
of my beads, because I was too tired before."
" Yes, you must go in, Tessa; but I will not go in. I must
leave you now," said Tito, too fevered and weary to re-enter
that stifling heat, and feeling that this was the least difficult
way of parting with her.
"And uot come back? Oh, where do you go?" Tessa's
mind had never formed an image of his whereabout or his do-
ings when she did not see him : he had vanished, and her
thought, instead of following him, had staid in the same spot
where he was with her.
"I shall come back some time, Tessa," said Tito, taking
her under the cloisters to the door of the church. " You must
not cry — you must go to sleep when you have said your beads.
And here is money to buy your breakfast. Now kiss me, and
iook happy ; else I shall not come again."
She made a great effort over herself as she put up her lips
to kiss him, and submitted to be gentlv turned round, with her
face towards the door of the church. Tito saw her enter ; and
144 ROMOLA.
then, with a shrug at his own vcsohition, loaned against a pil-
lar, took off his caj», nibbed his hair backward, and wondered
where Koindla was now, an-
rooting of all his newly-planted hopes could be made otherwise
than painful.
CHAPTER XV.
THE DYING MESSAGE.
When Romola arrived at the entrance of San Marco .^he
found one of the Frati waiting there in expectation of her ar-
rival. ^Nfonna lirigida retired into tlie adjoining church, and
Koniola was conducted to the (h)or of the cliapler-house in the
outer cloister, wlnther the invalid had been conveyed ; no wom-
an being allowed admission beyond tliis ])recinct.
When the door opened, the subdued external light blending
with that of two tapers placed behind a truckle-bed showed
the emaciated face of Fra Lnca, with the tonsured crown of
golden hail- above it, and with deep-sunken hazi'l eyes fixed on
a small crucifix whi(-h he held l)elore him. He was prop))ed
up into nearly a sitting posture; and Komola was just con-
fscious, as she threw aside her veii, that there was another monk
standing by the bed, with the black cowl drawn over his head,
and that he moved towarh was in her face, and she (juivered from head to foot.
Her brother was again slow to answer, looking at her passion-
ate face with strange ])assionless eyes.
"What were the maxims of )ihiloso|>hy to me? Tiiey told
me to be strong, when I felt myself weak ; when I was ready,
like the blessed Saint Benedict, to roll myself among thoiiis,
and court smarting wounds as a deliverance from temptation.
For tne Divine love had sought me, and penetrated me, and
ROMOLA. 147
created a great need in me ; like a seed that wants room to
grow. I had been brought up in carelessness of the true faith ;
I had not studied the doctrines of our religion ; but it seemed
to take possession of me like a rising flood. I felt that there
was a life of perfect love and purity for the soul, in which there
would be no uneasy hunger after pleasure, no tormenting ques-
tions, no fear of suffering. Before I knew the history of the
saints I had a foreshadowing of their ecstasy. For the same
truth had penetrated even into pagan philosophy ; that it is a
bliss within the reach of man to die to mortal needs, and live in
the life of (.lod as the Unseen Perfectness. But to attain that
I must forsake the world ; I must have no affection, no hope,
that wedded me to that which passeth away ; I must live with
my fellow-beings only as human souls related to the eternal
unseen life. That need was urging me continually ; it came
over me in visions when my mind fell away weary from the
vain words which record the passions of dead men; it came
over me after I had been tempted into sin, and turned away
with loathing from the scent of the emptied cup. And in
visions I saw the meaning of the Crucifix."
He paused, breathing hard for a minute or two ; but
Romola was not prompted to speak again. It was useless
for her mind to attempt any contact with the mind of this un-
earthly brother : as useless as for her hand to try and grasp
a shadow. He went on as soon as his heaving chest was
quieter.
" I felt Avliom I must follow : but I saw that even among
the servants of the Cross who professed to liave renounced the
world, my soul would be stifled with the fumes of hypocrisy
and lust and pride. God had not chosen me, as he chose
Saint Dominic and Saint Francis, to wrestle with evil in the
Church and in the world. He called upon me to flee: I took
the sacred vows and I fled — fled to lands where danger and
scorn and want bore me continually, like angels, to repose on
the bosom of God. I have liA'ed the life of a hermit ; I have
ministered to pilgrims : but my task has been short ; the veil
has worn very thin that divides me from my everlasting rest.
I came back to Florence that — "
" DiuQ, you did want to know if my father was alive," in-
terrupted Romola, the picture of that suffering life toucliing
her again with the desire for union and forgiveness.
" — that before I die I might ui'ge others of our brethren
to study the Eastern tongues, as I had not done, and go out to
greater ends than I did, and I find them already bent on tlie
work. And since I came, Romola, I have felt that I was sent
partly to thee — not to renew the bonds of earthly affection, but
148 liOMULA.
to deliver tljc lic.iveiily warning conveyed in :i vision. For 1
li:ive liad thiil vision llirice. And through all the years since
fust the Divine voice called nie, while 1 was yet in the world,
I have been taught and guided by visions. For in the painful
linking together of our waking thoughts we i-an never be sure
that we have not mingled our own error with the light we
have i)raycd for; but in visions and dreams we are jtassive,
and our souls are as an instrument in the Divine hand. Tliere-
fore listen, and sjjcak not again — for the time is short."
Ivomola's mind recoiled strongly fi-om listening to this vis-
ion. Her indignation had subsided, but it was only because
she had felt the distance between her brother and herself
widening. I5ut while Fra Luca was speaking the ligure of an-
other monk had entered, anil again stood on the other side of
the bed, with the cowl drawn over his liead.
"Kneel, my daughter, for the Angel of Death is present,
and waits while the message of Heaven is delivered : bend thy
pride before it is bent for thee by a yoke of iron," said a strong
rich voice, startlingly in contrast with Fra Luca's. The tone
was not that of imperious command, but of quiet self-posses-
sion and assurance of the right, blended with benignity,
liomola, vibrating to the sound, looked round at the figure on
the oj)posite side of the bed. His face was hardly discernible
under the shadow of the cowl, and. her eyes fell at once on his
hands, which were folded across his breast and lay in relief on
the edge of his black mantle. They had a marked physiogno-
my which enforced the intluence of the voice: they were very
beautiful and almost of transparent delicacy, liomola's dis-
l)osition to rebel against command, doubly active in the pres-
ence of monks, whom she had been taught to despise, Mould
have fixed itself on any repulsive detail as a point of supjjort.
IJut the face was liidden, and the hands seemed to have an ap-
peal in them against all hardness. The next moment the right
hanil took the crucifix to relievo the fatigued grasp of Fra
Luca, and the left touched his lips witii a wet sponge which
lay near. In the act of bending the cowl was pushed back,
and the features of the monk had the full light of the tapers
on them. They were very marked features, such as lend
themselves to popidar descrii)ti()n. There was the high arch-
ed n<»se, the prominent under lip, the coronet of thick dark
hair above the brow, all seeming to tell of energy and j.as-
sion; there were the blue-gray eyes, shining mildly mider
auburn eyelashes, sceming,dike the hands, to tell of acute sen-
sitiveness. Romola felt certain they were the features of Fra
(iirolamo Savonarola, tho jtrior of 8an Marco, whom she had
-chiefiy thought of as more offensive than other monks, be
ROMOLA. 149
cause he was more noisy. Her rebellion was rising against
the first impression, which had almost forced her to bend her
knees.
" Kneel, my danghtei-," the penetrating voice said again ;
" the pride of the body is a barriei- against the gifts that puri-
fy the soul."
He was looking at her with mild fixedness while he spoke,
and again she felt that subtle mysterious influence of a person-
ality by which it has been given to some rare men to move
their fellows.
Slowly Romola fell on her knees, and in the very act a tre-
mor came over her; in the renunciation of her proud erect-
ness, her mental attitude seemed changed, and she found her-
self in a new state of passiveness. Her brother began to speak
again.
" Romola, in the deep night, as I lay awake, I saw my fa-
ther's room — the library — with all the books and the marbles
and the leggio, where I used to stand and read ; and I saw you
— you were revealed to me as I see you now, pale, with long
hair, sitting before my father's chaii-. And at the leggio stood
a man whose face I could not see — I looked, and looked, and
it was a blank to me, even as a painting effaced ; and I saw
him move and take thee, Romola, by the hand ; and then I
saw thee take my father by the hand, and you went all three
down the stone steps into the streets, the man whose face was
a blank to me leading the way. And you stood at the altar in
Santa Croce, and the priest who married you had the face of
death ; and the graves opened, and the dead in their shrouds
rose and followed you like a bridal train. And you passed on
through the streets and the gates into the valley, and it seem-
ed to me that he who led you hurried you more than you could
bear, and the dead were weary of following you, and turned
back to their graves. And at last you came to a stony place
•where there was no water, and no trees or herbage ; but in-
stead of water, I saw written parchment unrolling itself every-
where, and instead of trees and herbage I saw men of bronze
and marble springing up and crowding round you ; and my
father was faint for want of water and fell to the ground ; and
the man whose face was a blank loosed thy hand and depart-
ed ; and as he went I could see his face ; and it was the face
of the Great Tempter. And thou, Romola, didst wring thy
hands and seek for water, and there was none. And the
bronze and marble figures seemed to mock thee and hold out
cups of water, and when thou didst grasp them and put them
to my father's lips they turned to parchment. And the bronze
and marble figures seemed to turn into demons and snatch mj
150 KOMOLA.
fiitlior's body from ihcc, and the parclnncnts shrivelled up, and
blood ran everywhere instead of them, and fire uj)on the blood,
till tlu'V all vanished and the jtlain was bare and stony airain,
anil thou wast alone in the midst of it. And then it seemed
that the night fell and I saw no more. . . . Thrice I have had
that vision, Komola. I believe it is a revelation meant for
thee — to warn thee auainst marriaije as a tem))talion of Uie
enemy — it calls ui)on thee to di-dicate thyself — "
I lis pauses had gradually become longer and more frequent,
and he was now comj)elk'd to cease by a severe fit of gasping,
in which his eyes were turned on the crucifix as on a light that
was vanishing. Presently he found strength to speak again,
but in a feebler, scarcely audible tone.
"To renounce the vain ])hilosophy and cori-ujit thoughts of
the heathens: for in the hour of sorrow and death their pride
will turn to mockery, and the unclean gods will — "
The words died away.
In s])ite of the thought that was at woik in IJomola, telling
her that this vision was no more than a dream, fed by youth-
ful memories and ideal convictions, a strange awe bati come
over lier. Iler mind was not apt to be assailed \)v sicklv fan-
cies ; shchad the vivid intellect and the healthy human passion,
which are too keenly alive to the constant relations of things
to ha\-e any morbid craving after the exceptional. Still tlic
images of the vision she dcs])ised jarred and distressed her
like painful and cruel cries. And it was the first time she had
witnessed the struggle with approaching death : her young life
had b(K'n sombre, but she had known nothing of the utmost
human needs; no acute suffering — no heart-cutting sorrow;
and this brother, come back to her in his hour of supreme
agony, was like a sudden awful apparition from an invisible
world. The pale faces of sorrow in the fresco on the ojiposito
wall seemed to have come nearer, and to make one comjiany
with the ])ale face on the bed.
" Krate," said the dying voice.
Fra (yirolamo leaned tlown. Jiut no other word, came for
some moments.
" Komola," it said next.
She leaned forward too: but again there was silence. Tlie
words were struggling in vain.
" Fra (iirolamo, give lier — "
" The crucilix,'" said (he voice of Fra Glrolamo.
No other sound came from the dying li])s.
"Dino !" said Komola, with a low but i)iercing cry, as the
certainty came upon Iter that the silence of misunderstanding
could never be broken.
ROMOLA. 151
** Take the crucifix, my daugliter," said Fra Girolamo, after
a few minutes. " His eyes behold it no more."
Romola stretched out lier hand to the crucifix, and this
act appeared to relieve the tension of her mind. A great sob
burst from her. She bowed her head by the side of her dead
brother, and wept aloud. It seemed to her as if this first vis-
ion of death must alter the daylight for her for evermore.
Fra Girolamo moved towai"ds the door, and called in a fra
converso who was waiting outside. Then he went up to Ko-
juola, and said in a tone of gentle command, " Rise, my daugh-
tei', and be comforted. Our brother is witli the blessed. He
has left you the crucifix in remembrance of heavenly warning
- — that it may be a beacon to vou in the darkness."
She rose from her Tvnees, trembling, folded her veil over
her head, and hid the crucifix under her mantle. Fra Giro-
lamo then led the way out into the cloistered court, lit now
only by the stars and by a lantern which was held by some
one near the entrance. Several other figures in the dress of
the dignified laity were grouped about the same spot. They
were some of the numerous frequenters of San Marco, who
had come to visit the Prior, and having heard that he was in
attendance on the dying brother in the chapter-house had
awaited him here.
Romola was dimly conscious of footsteps and rustling
forms moving aside : she heard the voice of Fra Girolamo,
saying, in a low tone, " Our brother is departed ;" she felt a
hand laid on her arm. The next moment the door was open-
ed, and she was out in the wide piazza of San IVIarco, \v\i\\ no
one but Monna Brigida and the servant carrying the lantern.
The fresh sense of space revived her, and helped her to re-
cover her self-mastery. The scene which had just closed upon
her was terribly distinct and vivid, but it began to narrow un-
der the returning impressions of the life that lay outside it.
She hastened her steps with nervous anxiety to be again with
her father — and with Tito — for were they not together in her
absence? The images of that vision, while they clung about
her like a hideous dream not yet to be shaken off, made her
yearn all the more for the beloved faces and voices that would
assure her of her waking life.
Tito, we know, was not with Bardo ; his destiny was being
shaped by a guilty consciousness, urging on him the despair-
ing belief that by this time Romola possessed the knowledge
which would lead to tlieir final separation.
And the lips that could have conveyed that knowledge Avere
forever closed. The prevision that Fra Luca's Avords had im-
parted to Romola had been such as comes from the shadowy
152 KO.MoI-A.
r<'L?i')n wliere liunirui souls seek Avisilom apart from tlio human
.sviii|tatirn's wliicli arc tlif very life and substance of our wis-
dom ; the revelation that mis^dit have cume from the simple
questions of filial and brotherly affection had been carried
into irrevocable silence.
CUMBER XVI.
A FLORENTINE JOKE.
Early the next morning Tito was returning from Bratti's
shop in the narrow thoroughfare of the I'\'rraveeelij. The-
Genoese stranger had carried awaj; the onyx ring, and Tito
was carrying away fifty florins. I^ did just cross his miml
that if, after all, Fortune, by one of her able devices, saved him
from the necessity of (juitling Florence, it would be better for
him not to have parted with iiis ring, since he had been under-
stood to wear it for the sake of peculiar memoi-ies ;ii.d predi-
lections; still it was a sliglit matter, not worth dwelling on
with any emphasis, and in those moments he had 1<» I his con-
fidence in fortune. The feverish excitement of the first alarm
which had imj)elled his mind to travel into the future had
given place to a dull, regretful lassitude. He cared so much
for the ))leasures that could only come to him through the
good opinion of his fellow-men, tliat he wished now he liad
never risked ignominy by shrinking from what his fellow-men
called obligations. But our deeils are like chiKlren th;it are
born to us ; they live and act apart from our own will. Nay,
vhildren may be strangled, but deeds never; they have an in-
destructible life both in and out of our consciousness ; and
that dreadful vitality of deeds was pressing hard on Tito for
the first time.
lie was going back to his lodgings in the T'ia/.za di San
Giovamii, but he avoided i)assing through the ]\Iercalo Vec-
chio, which was his nearest way, lest he should see Tessa, lie
was not in the humor to seek any thing ; he could only await
the first sign of his altering lot.
The piazza with its sights of beauty was lit up \>\ that
ivarm morning sunlight under which the autumn dew still lin-
gers, and whicli invites to an idlessc undulled by fatigue. It
was a festival morning too, when the soft warmth seems to
steal over one with a special invitation to lounge and gaze.
The signs of the fair were present here too ; in the sjjaces
round the octagonal ])aptistery stalls were being spread with
fruit and flowers, and here and there laden mules were stand-
ROMOLA. 153
ing quietly absorbed in their nose-bags, while their drivers
were perhaps gone thi-ough the hospitable sacred doors to
kneel before the Blessed Virgin on this morning of her Nativ-
ity. On the broad marble steps of the Duomo there were
scattered groups of beggars and gossiping talkers ; here an
old crone with white hair and hard sunburned face encourag-
ing a round-capped bal>y to try its tiny bare feet on the warm
marble, while a dog sitting near snuffed at the performance
suspiciously ; there a couple of shaggy-headed boys leaning
to watch a small pale cripple who was cutting a face on a
cherry-stone ; and above them on the wide platform men
were making changing knots in laughing desultory chat, or else
were standing in close couples gesticulating eagerly.
But the largest and most important company of loungers
Avas that towaixls which Tito had to direct his steps. It was
the busiest time of the day with Nello, and in this warm sea-
son and at an hour when clients were numerous, most men
preferred being shaved under the pretty red and white awn-
ing in front of the shop rather than within narrow walls. It
is not a sublime attitude for a man to sit with lathered chin
thrown backward, and have his nose made a handle of ; but
to be shaved was a fashion of Florentine respectability, and it
is astonishing how gravely men look at each other when they
are all in the fashion. It was the hour of the day too when
yesterday's crop of gossip was freshest, and the barber's tongue
was always in its glory when liis razor was busy ; the deft ac-
tivity of those two instruments seemed to be set going by a
common spring. Tito foresaw that it would be impossible
for him to escape being drawn into the circle ; he must smile
and retort, and look perfectly at his ease. Well ! it was but
the ordeal of swallowing bread and cheese pills after all. The
man who let the mere anticipation of discovery choke him was
simply a man of weak nerves. But just at that time Tito felt
a hand laid on his shoulder, and no amount of previous resolu-
tion could prevent the very unpleasant sensation with which .
that sudden touch jarred him. His face, as he turned it round,
betrayed the inward shock ; but the owner of the hand that
seemed to have such evil magic in it broke into a lio-ht lausrh.
He was a young man about Tito's own age, with keen features,
small, close-clipped head, and close-shaven lip and chin, giving
the idea of a mind as little encumbered as possible with ma-
terial that was not nervous. The keen eves were brio-ht with
hope and friendliness, as so many other young eyes have been
that have afterwards closed on the world in bitterness and dis-
appointment ; for at that time there were none but pleasant
oredictions about Niccolo Macchiavelli, as a vouusr man of
154 ROMOIA.
promise, who was expected to incml the broken fortunes of
ills ancient family.
" Wliv, Mc'Icnia, wliat evil ilream did you liavi' last nicfht
that vuu look nivlitrht Lrrasp for that of a.s6//vc or soiiiuthini'
worse ?"
"Ah,Messcr Niccolo !" said Tito, recovering himself im-
mediately ; " it must liave been an extra amount of dullness
in my veins this morniny; that shutldered at the approach of
your wit. But the fact is, I have had a bad night."
" That is unlucky, l)ecause you will be expected to sliine
without anv obstructing fog to-dav in the Rucellai Gardens.
I take it for granted you are to be there."
"Messer Bernardo did me the lionor to invite me," said
Tito ; '• but I shall be engaged elsewhere."
" Ah ! I remember, you are iii love," said !Macchiavelli,
with a shrug, " else you would never liave such inconvenient
engagements. Why, we are to eat a ])eacock and ortolans
under the loggia among Bernardo Kucellai's rare trees ; there
are to be the choicest spirits in Florence and the choicest wines.
Only as Piero de' Medici is to be there, the choice spirits may
liapjien to be swamped in the capping of impromptu verses.
1 hate that game; it is a device for the triumi)li of small wits,
who are always inspired the most by the smallest occasions."
""What is that you arc saying about Piero de'' Medici and
small wits, Messer Niccolu?" said Xello, whose light figure
was at that moment j)redominating over the Herculean frame
of Niccolo Caparra. That famous worker in iron, whom we
saw last with bared muscular arms ajid leathern a]/ron in the
IMercato Vecchio, was this morning drt'ssed in lioliday suit,
and as lie sat submissively while Nello skipped round him,
lathered him, seized him by the nose, and scrajM'd him with
magical quickness, he looked much as a lion might if it had
donned linen and tunic and was preparing to go into society.
"A private secretary will never rise in the world if he
couples great and small in tiiat way," continued Nello. " Wlien
great mcTi are not allowed to marry their sons and daughti'rs
as they like, small men must not expect to marry their words
as they like. Have you heard the news Bernardo CV'imini
here has been telling us V that Pagolantonio Soderini has given
Ser I'iero da IJibbiena a box on the ear for setting on Piero
de' Medici to interfere with the marriage between young
Tommaso Soderini and Fiamnietta Strozzi, and is to be sent
embassador to Venice as a ];unishment V"
"I don't know which I envy him most," said ]Macchiavelli,
" the offense or the punishment. The offense will make him
the most popular man in all Florence, and the punishment will
ROMOLA. 155
take bim among the only people in Italy who have known how
to manage their own affairs."
" Yes, if Soderini stays long enough at Venice," said Cen-
nini, " he may chance to learn the Venetian fashion, and bring
it home with him. The Soderini have been fast friends of the
Medici, but Avhat has happened is likely to open Pagolantonio's
eyes to the good of our old Florentine trick of choosing a new
harness when the old one galls us ; if we have not quite lost
the trick in these last fifty years."
" Xot we," said Xiccolo Caparra, who was rejoicing in
the free use of his lips again. " Eat eggs in Lent and the
snow will melt. That's what I say to our people when they get
noisy over their cups at San Gallo, and talk of raising a ronior
(insurrection) : I say, never do you plan a romor; you may
as well try to fill Arno with buckets. When there's water
enough Arno will be full, and that will not be till tlie torrent
is ready."
" Caparra, that oracular speech of yours is due to my ex-
cellent shaving," said Nello. " You could never have made
it with that dark rust on your chin. JEcco, Messer Bernardo,
I am ready for you now. By-thc-way, my bel erud'do^'' con-
tinued Nello, as he saw Tito moving towards the door, " here
has been old Maso seeking for you, but your nest was empty.
He Avill come again presently. The old man looked mournful,
and seemed in haste. I hope there is nothing wrong in the
Via de' Bardi.'
" Doubtless, Messer Tito knows that Bardo's son is dead,"
said Cronaca, who had just come up.
Tito's heart gave a leap — had tlie death happened before
Romola saw him ?
" Xo, I had not heard it," he said, with no more discom-
posure than the occasion seemed to warrant, turning and lean-
ing against the door-post, as if he had given up his intention
of going away. " I knew that his sister had gone to see him.
Did he die before she arrived ?"
" Xo," said Cronaca ; " I was in San Marco at the time, and
saw her come out from the chapter-house with Fra Girolamo,
who told us that the dying man's breath had been preserved
as by a miracle, that he might make a disclosure to his sister."
Tito felt that his fate was decided. Again his mind rushed
over all the circumstances of his departure from Florence, and
he conceived a plan of getting back his money from Cennini
before the disclosure had become public. If he once had his
money he need Tiot stay long in endurance of scorching looks
and biting words. He would wait now, and go away with
Cennini and get the money from liim at once. With that
150 Ki.Mitl.A.
project in liis iiiiml ho stood inotionU'ss — liis hands inliisbolt,
liis ovcs iixod absently on the i^round. Nello, t'lancinLT at
him, felt sure that he was absorbed in anxiety about lioniohi,
and thought him such a pretty image of self-forgetful sadnesa
that he just perceptil>ly pointed his razor at him, and gave a
challenfrinGC look at l*iero di Cosimo, whom he had never for-
tjiven lor iiis refusal to see any prtignostics of character in his
favorite's handsome face. Piero, who was leaning against the
other door-i>ost, close to Tito, shrugged his shoulders: the
frequent recurrence of such challenges from Nello had changed
the painter's ilrst declaration of neutrality into a positive in-
clination to believe ill of the much-praised Greek.
" So vou have got your Fra Girolamo back again, Cronaca ?"
said Xello. "I suppose we shall have him preaching again
this next Advent," said Xello.
'•And not before there is need," said Cronaca gravely.
" We have hail the best testimony to his words since the last
Quaresima; for even to the wicked wickedness has become a
plague ; and the ripeness of vice is turning to rottenness in the
nostrils even of the vicious. There has not been a change
since the Quaresima, either in Rome or at Florence, but has
put a new seal on the Frate's words — that the harvest of siu
is ripe, and that God will reap it with a sword."
" I hope he has had a new vision, however," said Francesco
Cei, sneeringly. "The old ones are somewhat stale. Can't
your Frate get a poet to help out his imagination for him V*
"He has no lac^k of poets about him," said Cronaca, with
(piiet contem})t, " but they are great poets and not little ones ;
so they are contented to be taught by him, anut perhaps certain high
prelates and princes who don't like the Frate's demmciations
might be ])leased to hear that, though Giovanni Pico, and
Poliziano, and ^larsilio Ficiiio, and most other men of mark in
Florence reverence Fra Girulanu), Messer Francesco Cei de-
spises him."
" Poliziano ?" said Cei, with a scornful laugh. " Yes, doubt-
less he believes in your new Jonah ; witness the line oration
he wrote for the envoys of Sienna, to tell Alexander the Sixth
that the world and the church were never so well off as since
he became Pope."
" Nay, Francesco," said Macchiavelli, smiling, " a various
scholar niust have various opinions. And as for the Frate,
whatever we may think of his saintliness, you judge his jireach-
ing too narrowly. The secret of oratory lies not in saying new
thin<'3, but in saying things with a certain power that moves'
KOMOLA. 157
the hearers — without which, as oldFilelfo has said, your speak-
er deserves to be called, 'non oratorem, sed aratorem.' And,
according to that test, Fra Girolamo is a great orator."
'■ That is true, Niccolo," said Cennini, speaking from the
shaving-chair, " but part of the secret lies in the prophetic vis-
ions. Our people— no offense to you, Cronaca — will run after
any thing in the shape of a prophet, especially if he prophesies
ierrors and tribulations."
" Rather say, Cennini," answered Cronaca, " that the chief
3ecret lies in the Frate's pure life and strong faith, which stamp
him as a messenger of God."
" I admit it — I admit it," said Cennini, opening his palms,
as he rose from the chair. " His life is spotless : no man has
impeached it."
"He is satisfied with the pleasant lust of arrogance," Cei
burst out, bitterly. " I can see it in that proud lip and satis-
fied eye of his. He hears the air filled with his own name —
Fra Girolamo Savonarola, of Ferrara ; the prophet, the saint,
the mighty preacher, who frightens the very babies of Flor-
ence into Ivino: down their wicked baubles."
" Come, come, Francesco, you are out of humor with wait-
ing," said the conciliatory Nello. " Let me stop your mouth
with a little lather. I must not have my friend Cronaca made
angry : I have a regard for his chin ; and his chin is in no re-
spect altered since he became a piagnone. And for my own
part, I confess, when the Frate was preaching in the Duomo
last Advent, I got into such a trick of slipping in to listen to
him, that I might have turned piagnone too, if I had not been
hindered by the liberal nature of my art — and also by the
length of the sermons, which are sometimes a good while be-
fore they get to the moving point. But as Messer Niccolo
here says, the Frate lays hold of the people by some power
over and above his prophetic visions. Mi5nks and nuns who
prophesy ai"e not of that rareness. For what says Luigi Pulci ?
' Dombrnno's sharp-cutting cimeter had the fame of being en-
chanted ; but,' says Messer Luigi, ' I mn rather of opinion
that it cut sharp because it was of strongly-tempered steel.'
5res, yes ; paternosters may shave clean, but they must be said
over a good razor."
'* See, Xello !" said MacchiaveUi, " what doctor is this ad-
vancing on his Bucephalus ? I thought your piazza was free
from those furred and scarlet-robed lackeys of death. This
man looks as if he had had some such night adventure as
Boccaccio's ]\Iaestro Simone, and had his bonnet and mantle
pickled a little in the gutter; though he himself is as sleek as
a miller's rat,"
158 ROirOI.A.
" A-ali!" said Ndlo, with ;i l(j\v, long-drawn intoi'ation, as
he looked ii]) tcnvards the advancing figure — a round-lieaded,
roiin(l-ljodit'r/?»7>/;rolong the 0])eration to the
utmost — " I never thought of ])lacing them on a level : I know
your science comes next to the miracles of Holy Church for
mystery, l^ut tln-re, you see, is the pity of it" — here Xello
fell into a tone of regretful sympathy — " your high science is
sealed from the ])rofane and the vulgar, and so you become an
object of envy and slander. I grieve to say it, l>ut there are
low fellows ill this city — mere stjhcrri, who go about in night-
caps and long beards, and make it their business to sprinkle
gall in every man's broth who is prospering. Let me tell you
— for vou are a stranger — this is a city where every man had
need carry a large nail ready to fasten on the wheel of Fortune
when his side ha))pens to be uppermost. Already there are
stories — mere fables, tloubtless — beginning to be buzzed about
concerning you, that make me Avish I could hear of your be-
ing well on your way to Arezzo. I would not have a man of
your metal stoned ; for though San Stefano was stoned, he
was not irreat in medici:;e like San Cosmo and San Dainia-
no...."
" What stories ? what fables ?" stammered Masetro Tacco.
"What do you mean?"
'■'■ Jaisso! 1 feai- me you are come into the trap for your
cheese, Maestro. The fact is, there is a company of evil youths
who go jirowlmg about the houses of our citizens carrying
i-;hai'p tools in their ])ockets ; no sort of door, or window, or
shutter but they will ]»ierce it. They are possessed with a
diabolical jiatience to watch the doings of people who fancy
thcMiselvcs jiiivale. It must be they who have done it — it
must be they who have spread the stories about you and your
medicines. Have you by chance detected any small aperture
in your door or window shutter? No? Khhcnc, I advise
you to look — for it is now commonly talked of that you have
been seen in vour dwellinccat the Canto di Paglia makiriix vour
secret specifics by night: pounding dried toads in a inoitar,
?ompotmding a salve out of mashed worms, and making your
pills from the dried livers of rats which you mix with saliva
emitted during the utterance of a blasphemous incantatioji —
wfiich indeed these witnesses jirofess to repeat."
"It is a ]iack of lies!" exclaimed the doctor, strugtrling to
get utteiance, and then desisting in alarm at th.e approaching
razor.
" It is not to me or any of this respectable company that
you need to say that, dotlorc. We are not the heads to plan*
ROMOLA, 1 i
euch carrots as tliose in. But what of that? What are a
liandful of reasonable men against a crowd with stones in their
hands ? There are those among us who think Cecco d'Ascoli
was an innocent sage — and we all know how he was burned alive
for being wiser than his fellows. It is not by living at Padua
that you can learn to know Florentines. My belief is, they
would stone the Holy Futher himself if they could find a good
excuse for it; and they are persuaded that you are" a nigro-
mante, Avho is trying to raise the pestilence by selling secret
medicines — and I am told your specifics have in truth an evil
smell."
" It is false !" burst out the doctor, as Nello moved away
his razor. " It is false ! I will show the pills and the powders
to these honorable signori — and the salve — it has an excel-
lent odor — an odor of — of salve." Pie started up wnth the
lather on his chin, and the cloth round his neck, to search in
his saddle-bag for the belied medicines, and Nello in an instant
adroitly shifted the shaving-chair till it was in the close vicin-
ity of the horse's head, while Sandro, who had now returned,
at a sign from his master, placed himself near the bridle.
^'Bahold inesserif'' said the doctor, bringing a small box of
medicines and opening it before them. " Let any signor ap-
ply this box to his nostrils and he will find an honest odor of
medicaments— not indeed of pounded gems, or rare vegetables
from the East, or stones found in the bodies of birds ; for I
practise on the diseases of the vulgar, for whom Heaven has
provided cheaper and less powerful remedies according to their
degree : aiid there are even remedies known to our science which
are entirely free of cost — as the new tiissis may be counteract-
ed in the poor, who can pay for no specifics, by a resolute hold-
ing of the breath. And here is a paste which is even of savory
odor, and is infallible against melancholia, being concocted
under the conjunction of Jupiter and Venus — and I have seen
it allay spasms."
" Stay, maestro," said Kello, while the doctor had his lather-
ed face turned towards the group near the door, eagerly hold-
ing out his box and lifting out one specific after another;
" here comes a crying contadina witli her baby. Doubtless she
is in search of you ; it is perhaps an opportunity for you to
show this honorable company a proof of your skill. Here buo-
na donna f here is the famous doctor. Why what is the mat-
ter with the sweet bambino f''
This question was addressed to a sturdy-looking, broad-
shouldered contadina, with her head-drapery folded about her
face so that little was to be seen but a bronzed nose and a pair
of dark eyes and eyebrows. She carried her child packed up
162 ROMOI.A.
ill tlu' stiff mnininv-sliaiKHl c.isc in which Italian habios hav«
been from linu' innnemoiial introihiced into society, turning
its face a littk' towards her bosoin, anut when I was holding it before the Santissima
Kunziata, I remember they said there was a new ractising lujuestly and relieving a poor woman s
child. And then if your lile is in danger, the Magniticent
Eight will put you in jtrison a little while just to insure your
safety, and after that their sbirrl \\\\\ conduct you out of Flor-
ence by night, as they did the jealous Frate ^linore, who preach-
ed against the Jews. What! our ])eople arc given to stone-
throwing ; but we have magistrates."
The doctor, unable to refuse, seated himself in the shaving-
chair, trembling, half with fear and half with rage, and by this
lime quite unconscious of the lather which Xello had laid on
with such profuseness. lie deposited his medicine-case on his
knees, took out his ]>recious spectacles (wondrous Florentine
device !) from his wallet, lodgi-d them carefully above his llat
nose and high ears, and lifting up his brows, turned towards
the ajiplicant.
"O Santiddio? look at him," said the woman, with a more
piteous wail than ever, as she held out the small munnny,
which had its head completely concealed by dingy drapery
wound round the head of the portalile cradle, but secTued to
be struggling and crying in a demoniacal fashion mider this
imprisonment. "The fit is on him ! Ohime! I know what a
color he is; it's the evil-eye — oh !"
The doctor, anxiously holding his knees together to support
his box, bent his spectacles towards the baby, and said, cau-
tiously, "It may be a new disease; unwind these rags, Mon-
na!"'
The contadina, with sudden energy, snatched off the encir-
cling linen, when out struggled — scratching, grinning, and
screaming — what the doctor in his fright fully believetl to be
a demon, but what Tito recognized as Vaiano's monkey, made
EOMOLA. 163
more formidable by an artificial blackness, such as might have
come fi-om a hasty rubbing up the chimney.
Up started the unfortunate doctor, letting his raedicine-box
fall, and away jumped the no less terrified and indignant mon-
key, finding the first resting-place for his claws on the horse's
mane, which he used as a sort of rope-ladder till he had fairly
found his equilibrium, when he continued to clutch it as a bri-
dle. The horse wanted no spur under such a rider, and, the
already loosened bridle offering no resistance, darted off across
the piazza with the monkey clutching, grinning, and blinking,
on his neck.
" II cavallo ! II Diavolo .'" was now shouted on all sides
by the idle rascals who had gathered from all quarters of the
piazza, and was echoed in tones of alarm by the stall-keepers,
whose vested interests seemed in some danger ; while the doc-
tor, out of his wits with confused terror at the Devil, the pos-
sible stoning, and the escape of his horse, took to his heels
with spectacles on nose, lathered face, and the shaving-cloth
about his neck, crying, " Stop him ! stop him ! for a powder
— a fiorin — stop him for a florin !'' while the lads, outstripping
him, clapped their hands and shouted encouragement to the
runaway.
The cerretano, who had. not bargained for the flight of his
monkey along with tlie horse, had caught up his petticoats
with much celerity, and showed a pair of parti-colored hose
above his contadina's shoes, far in advance of the doctor. xVnd
away went the grotesque race up to the Corso degli Adimari
— the horse with the singular jockey, the contadina Avith the
remai'kable hose, and the doctor in lather and si^ectacles, with
furred mantle butflying.
It was a scene such as Florentines loved, from the potent
and reverend signor going to council in his lucco, down to the
grinning youngster, who felt himself master of all situations
Avhen his bag was filled with smooth stones from the conve-
nient dry bed of the torrent. The gray-headed Bernardo Cen-
nini laughed no less heartily than the younger men, and Ncllo
was triumphantly secure of the general admiration.
" Aha !" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers when the first
burst of laughter was subsidhig. " I have cleared my piazza
of that unsavory flytrap, mi ^J)«rc. Maestro Tacco will no
more come here again to sit for patients than he will take to
licking marble for his dinner."
" You are going towards the Piazza della Signoria, Messer
Bernardo," said Macchiavelli. " I will go with you, and we
shall perhaps see Avho has deserved the palio among these
racers. Come, Melema, will you go too ?"
104 Rf)M<)I.A.
It liaJ been precisely Tito's intention to accompany Cennl
ni, hut before lie had gone many steps he was called back by
Xello, who saw Maso approaehint;.
.Maso's messai^e was from Komola. She wished Tito to go
to the Via de' Bardi as soon as possible. She would see him
under the loggia, at the top of the house, as she wished to speak
\v him alone.
CPIAPTER XVII.
UNDER THE LOGGIA.
TiiK loggia at the top of Bardo's house rose above the buikU
ings on each side of it, and formed a gallery round quatlran-
gular walls. On the side towards the street the roof was sup-
ported by cohunns ; but on the remaining sides, by a Avail
pierced Avith arched openings, so that at the back, looking over
a crowd of irregular, poorly built dwellings towards the hill of
Bogoli, Roniola could at all times have a Avalk sheltered from
observation. Near one of those arched openings, close to the
door by which he liad entered the loggia, Tito awaited her,
nith a sickening sense of the sunlight that slanted before him
.ind mingled itself with the ruin of his hopes. He had ne\er
for a moment relied on Komula's passion for him as likely to
be too strong for the repulsion created by the discovery of his
pccret ; he had not the presumptuous vanity which might have
hindered him from feeling that her love IkuI the same root with
her belief in him. But as he imagined her coming towards him
in her ratliant majesty, made so lovably mortal by her soft ha-
zv\ eyes, he fell into wishing that shehadlnen something low-
er, if it were only that she might let liim clasp her and kiss her
before they parted. He had had no real caress from her —
nothing but now and then a long glance, a kiss, a ])ressure of
the hand ; and he had so often longed that they should be alone
togethei'. They were going to be alone now ; but he saw her
standing inexorably aloof from him. His heart gave a great
throb as he saw the door move: Komola was there. It was
all like a flash of lightning : he felt, rather than saw, the glory
about lier head, the tearful appealing eyes ; he felt, rather than
heard, the cry of love with which slie said, " Tito !"
And in the same moment she was in liis arms, and sobbing
with her face ag.iinst his.
How j)Oor Komola had yearned through the watches of tlie
niglit to see tli:it bright face ! The new image of death ; the
strange bowilderiiiir doubt infused into her bv the story of a
ROMOLA. 165
life removed from her understanding and sympathy ; the haunt-
ing vision, which slie seemed not only to hear uttered by the
low gasping voice, but to Uve through, as if it had been her
own dream, had made her more conscious than ever that it was
Tito who had first brought the warm stream of hope and glad-
ness into her life, and who had first turned away the keen edge
of pain in the remembrance of her brother. She would tell
Tito every thing ; there was no one else to whom she could
tell it. She had been restraining herself in the presence of her
father all the morning ; but now that long pent-up sob might
come forth. Proud and self-controlled to all the Avorld besides,
Romola was as simple and unreserved as a child in her love
for Tito. She had been quite contented with the days when
they had only looked at each other ; but now, when she felt
the need of clinging to him, there was no thought that hinder-
ed her.
"My Romola! my goddess!" Tito murmured with pas-
sionate fondness, as he clasped her gently, and kissed the thick
golden ripples on her neck. He was in paradise: disgrace,
shame, parting — there was no fear of them any longer. This
happiness was too strong to be marred by the sense that Rom-
ola was deceived in him ; nay, he could only rejoice in her de-
lusion ; for, after all, concealment had been wisdom. The only
thing he could regret was his needless dread ; if, indeed, the
dread had not been worth suffering for the sake of this sudden
rapture.
The sob had satisfied itself, and Romola raised her head.
Neither of them spoke ; they stood looking at each other's
faces with that sweet wonder which belongs to young love —
she with her long white hands on the dark-brown curls, and
he with his dark fingers bathed in the streaming gold. Each
was so beautiful to the other ; each was experiencing that un-
disturbed mutual conscious)"«ss for the first time. The cold
pressure of a new sadness on Romola's heart made her linger
the more in that silent soothing sense of nearness and love ;
and Tito could not even seek to press his lips to hers, because
that w^ould be change.
" Tito," she said, at last, " it has been altogether painful.
But I must tell you every thing. Your strength will help me
to resist the impressions that will not be shaken off by reason."
" I know, Romola — I know he is dead," said Tito ; and the
long lustrous eyes told nothing of the many wishes that would
have brought about that death long ago if there had been
Buch potency in mere wishes. Romola only read her own
pure thoughts in their dark depths, as we read letters in happy
dreams.
1^0 ROMOLA.
"So changed, Tito! It juerccd mc to tfnuk that it w.-w
Dino. And so slr;uit;tly liard : not a word to my father
nothing but a vision iiiat Ik- wanted t(j tell nie. And yet it
was so piteous— the struggling breath, and tlie eves that seem-
ed to h.ok towards the crucifix, and yet not to see it. I shall
never forget it; it seems as if it wotild come between me and
every thing I sliall look at."
Komola's heart swelled again, so that she was forced to
J)reak off. But the need she felt to disburden her miiid to
Tito urged her to repress the rising anguish. When she be-
gan to speak again her thoughts hail travelled a little.
" It was strange, Tito. The vision was about our marriage,
and yet he knew nothing of you." ^
" What was it, my liomola V Sit down and tell me," said
Tito, leading her to the bench that stood ncai-. A fear had
come across him lest the vision should s(jmehow or other re-
late to Baldassarre ; and this sudden change of feeling i)romi)t-
ed him to seek a change of position.
liomola told him all tliat had passed from her entrance into
Sail Marco, hardly leaving out one of her brother's words
which had burned themselves into her memory as they were
spoken. But when she was at the end of the vision she
paused; the rest came too vividly before her to be uttered
and she sat looking at the distance almost unconscious for the
moment that Tito was near her. 7//.s mind was at ease now;
that vague vision had passed over him like white mist, and
left no mark. But he was silent, expecting her to speak
again.
" I took it," she went on, as if Tito had been reading lier
thoughts; "I took the crucifix; it is down below in mfbed-
room."
" And now, anf^iol mio,'" said Tito, cntreatiiigly ; " you will
banish these ghastly thoughts. Tlie vision was 'an ordinary
monkisli vision, bred of fasting and fanatical ideas. It surely
has no weight with you."
" No, Tito ; no. But poor Dino, he believed it was a di-
vine message. It is strange," she went on, meditatively, " tiiis
life of men possessed with fervid beliefs that si'em like madness
to their fellow-beings. Dino was not a vulg.ir fanatic; and
that Fra Girolamo, his very voice seems to liave penetrated
me with a scu'^c that there is some truth in what moves them
— some truth of wliich I know nothing."
" It was only because your feelings were highly Avrouirht,
my Romola. Your brother's state of mind was no' more than
a forn: of that theoso])hy which has been the common disease
of excitable dreamy minds in all ages; the same ideas that
ROilOLA. 1G7
your father's old antagonist, Marsilio Ficino, pores over in
the new Platonists ; only your brother's passionate nature
drove him to act out what other men write and talk about.
And for Fra Girolamo, he is simply a narrow-minded monk,
with a gift for preaching and infusing terror into the multi-
tude. Any words or any voice would have sliaken you at
that moment. AVhen your mind has had a little repose, you
will judge of such things as you have always done before."
" Xot about poor Dino," said Romola. " I was angry with
him; aiy heart seemed to close against him while he was
speaking ; but since then I have thought less of what Avas in
my own mind, and more of what was in his. Oh, Tito ! it
was very j^iteous to see his young life coming to an end iu
that Avay. That yearning look at tlie crucifix when he Avas
gasping for breath — I can never forget it. Last night I look-
ed at the crucifix a long Avhile, and tried to see that it would
help him, until at last it seemed to me by the lamplight as if
the suffering face shed pity."
^^ Romola mia, promise me to resist such thoughts ; they
are fit for sickly nuns, not for my golden-tressed Aurora, Avho j
looks made to scatter all such tv/ilight fantasies. Try not to '
think of them now ; Ave shall not long be alone together."
The last words Avere uttered in a tone of tender beseeching,
and he turned her face towards him with a gentle touch of his
right hand.
Romola had had her eyes fixed absently on the archel open-
ing, but she had not seen the distant hill ; she had :.ll the
while been in the chapter-house, looking at the pale images of
sorrow and death.
Tito's touch and beseeching voice recalled her, and now in
the Avarm sunlight slie saw that rich dark beauty which seem-
ed to gather round it all images of joy — purple vines festoon-
ed between the elms, the strong corn perfecting itself under
the vibrating heat, bright-winged creatures hurrying and rest-
ing among the flowers, round limbs beating the earth in glad-
ne^ss, Avith cymbals held aloft ; light melodies chanting to the
thrilling rhythm of strings — all objects and all sounds that tell
of Xature revelling in her force. Strange, bewildering transi-
tion from those pale images of sorrow and death to this bright
youthfulness, as of a_sun-god who knew nothing of night !
What thought coukl ireconcile that Avorn anguish in her broth-
er's face — that straining after something invisible — with this
satisfied strength and beauty, and make it intelligible that they
belonged to the same world ? Or was there never any reconcil-
ing of them — but only a blind worship of clashing deities, first
iu mad joy and then in waiUng ? Romola for the first time ieJt
168 KOMOLA.
this questioning? need like a sudden uneasy dizziness and want
of sonK'thiiit;- to ^rasp ; it was an experience liardly lont^er
than a sii^h, fur the eager theoiizin<^ ut ages is compressed, ;x8
in a seed, in the momentary want of a single mind. But there
was no answer to meet the need, and it va\iislK'd before the
returning rusli of young symi)atliy with tlie glad loving beau-
ty that beamed upon her in new radiance, like the dawn after
we have looked away from it to the gray west.
" Your mind liiigers a])art from our love, my Komola," Tito
said, with a soft reproachful nmrmur. " It seems a forgotten
thing to you."
She looked at the beseeching eyes in silence till the sadness
all melted out of her own.
"My joy !" she said, in her full clear voice.
" Do you really care for me enough, then, to banish those
chill fancies, or shall you always be sus])ecting me as the Great
Temi)ter'r'" said Tito, with his bright smile.
" llow should I not care for you more than for every thing
else ? Every thing I had felt before in all my life — about my
father, and about my loiielincss — was a prejtaration to love
you. You would laiigli at me, Tito, if you knew what sort of
man I used to think 1 should marry — some scholar with deep
lines in his face, like Alamanno Kinuccini, and with rather
gray hair, who would agree with my father in taking the side
of the Aristotelians, and be willing to live with him. I used
to think about the love I read of in the poets, but I never
dreamed that any thing like that could happen to me here in
Florence in our "old library. And then y<>ti came, Tito, and
were so much to my father, and I began to believe that life
could be hajijiy for me too.'
'*]My goddess! is there any Avoman like you?" said Tito,
Avith a niixture of fondness and wondering .admiration at the
blended majesty and simi)licity in her.
" l>ut, dearest," he went on, rallier timidly, " if you minded
more about our marriage you would peisuade your iathcr and
Messer liernardo not to think of any more delays. But you
seem not to mind about it."
" Yes, Tito, 1 will, I do mind. ]>ut I am sure my godfather
will urge more delay now because of Dino's death. lie liat}
never agreed with n'ly father about disowning Dino, and you
know he has always said that we ought to wait until you have
been at least a year in Florence. J)o not think hardly of my
godfather. I know he is prejudiced and narrow, but yet he is
very noble. He has often said that it is folly in my father to
want to kccj) his library apart, that it may bear his name ; yet
he would try to get my father's wish carried out. That seems
EOilOLA. 169
to me very great and noble — tliat ]50\ver of respecting a feel-
ing wliich he docs not share or understand."
"I have no rancor against Messer Bernardo for thinking
you too precious for me, my Romohi," said Tito ; and that
was true. " But your father, then, knows of his son's death ?"
'' Yes, I told him — I could not he^p it — I told him where I
had been, and that I had seen Dino die ; but nothing else ; and
he has commanded me not to speak of it again. But he has
been very silent this morning, and has had those restless move-
m^ents which always go to my heart; they look as if he were
trying to get outside the prison of his blindness. Let us go
to him now. I had persuaded him to try to sleep, because he
slept little in the night. Your voice will soothe him, Tito; it
always does."
" And not one kiss? I have not had one," said Tito, in his
gentle reproachful tone, Avhich gave him an air of dependeiwe
very charming in a creature with those rare gifts that seem to
excuse presumption
The sweet pink flush spread itself M'ith the quickness of
light over Romola's face and neck as she bent towards him. It
seemed impossible that their kisses could ever become common
things.
" Let us -walk once Yound the loggia^'' said Roiuola, " before
we go down."
" There is something grim and grave to me always about
Florence," said Tito, as they paused in the front of the house,
where they could see over the opposite roofs to the other side
of the river, " and even in its merriment there is something
shrill and hard — biting rather than gay. I wish we lived in
Southern Italy, where tliought is broken not by weariness, but
by delicious languors such as never seem to come over the
' ingenia acerrima Florentina.' I should like to see you under
that southern sun, lying among the flowers, subdued into mere
enjoyment, while I bent over you and touched the lute and
sang to you some little unconscious strain that seemed all one
with the light and the warmth. You have never known that
happiness of the nymphs, my Romola."
" No, Tito ; but I have dreamed of it often since you came.
[ ara very thirsty for a deep draught of joy — for a life all bright
like you. But we will not think of it now, Tito ; it seems to
me as if there would always be pale, sad faces among tho
flowers, and eyes that look in vain. Let us go."
I
/'
ItO KOMOLuV.
ciiArT?:Ti xvin.
THE PORTRAIT.
Whex Tito left the Via cle' Bardi that day in exultant sat-
'traction at finding himself thoroughly free from the threatened
•j)eril, his tlioiights, no longer claimed by the innnediate ])re8-
eiK-e of Uomola and her father, recurred to those futile liours
of dread in which he was conscious of having not only felt but
acted as he would not have done if he had had a truer fore-
sight. He would not have parted with his ring; for Komola,
and others to whonj it was a familiar object, would be a little
struck with the apparent sordidness of parting with a gem he
had profesvsedly cherished, unless he feigned as a reason the
desire to make some special gift witii the purchase-money;
and Tito had at that moment a nauseating weariness of simu-
lation, lie was well out of the possible consequences that
might Ijavc fallen on him from that initial deception, and it
was no longer a load on his mind ; kind foitune had brought
him immunitv, and he thought it was onlv fair that she sliould.
Wlio was hurt by it ? Any results to Baldassarre were too
problematical to be taken into account. But he wanted now
to be free from any hitlden shackles that wo\ild gall him, though
ever so little, imder liis ties to Komola. He was not aware
that that very delight in immunity which jtromjited resolu-
tions not to entangle himself again was deadening the sensibil-
ities which alone could save him from entanglement.
. But after all the sale of tlie ring was a slight matter. Was
it also a slight matter that little Tessa was umler a delusion
which would tloubtless fill her small head with expectations
doomed to disappointment? Should he try to see tlie little
thing alone again and undeceive her at once, or should he
leave the disclosure to time and chance? Hajipy dreams
are ]»leasant, and they easily come to an end with daylight
and the stir of life. The sweet, pouting, innocent, round thing !
It was impossible not to think of her. Tito thought he should
like some time to take her a present that would ])le:ise her, and
just learn if her stepfather treated her more cruelly now her
mother Avas dead. Or, should he at once imdcceive Tessa, and
then tell Boinola about her, so that they might iiinl some luipjiier
lot for the poor thing? No: that unfortunate little incident
of the cerrcUnio and the marriage, and his allowing Tessa to
part fron^. him in delusion, must never be known to I'omola.
ROirOLA. 171
and since no enlightenment could expel it from Tessu's mind,
trie re would always be a risk of betrayal ; besides, even little
Tessa might have some gall in her when she found herself dis-
appointed in her love — yes, she must be a little in love witli
him, and that might make it well that he should not see her
again. Yet it was a trifling adventure such as a country girl
would perhaps pomler on till some ruddy contadino made ac-
ceptable love to hei', M'hen she would break her resolution of
secrecy and get at the truth that she was free. Dunqiie —
good-bye, Tessa ! kindest wishes ! Tito had made up his
mind that tlie siilv little affair of the cerratano should have
no further consequences for himself; and people are apt to
think that resolutions made on their own behalf will be firm.
As for the fifty-five florins, the purchase-money of the ring,
Tito had made up his mind Avhat to do with some of them ;
he would carry out a pretty ingenious thought which would
make him more at ease in accounting for the absence of his
ring to Romola, and would also serve him as a means of guard-
ing her mind from the recurrence of those monkish fancies
which were especially repugnant to him ; and with this thought
in his mind he went to the Via Gualfonda to find Piero
di Cosimo, the artist Avho, at that time, was pre-eminent in
the fantastic mythological design which Tito's purpose re-
quired.
Entering the court on which Piero's dwelling opened, Tito
found the heavy iron knocker on the door thickly bound round
with wool and ingeniously fastened with cords. Remembering
the painter's practice of stuffing his ears against obtrusive
noises, Tito was not much surprised at this mode of defense
against visitors' thunder, and betook himself first to tapping
modestly with his knuckles, and then to a more importunate
attempt to shake the door. In vain ! Tito was moving away,
blaming himself for wasting his time on this visit, instead of
waiting till he saw the painter again at Xello's, when a little
girl entered the court with a basket of eggs on her arm, went
up to the door, and, standing on tiptoe, pushed up a small iron
plate that ran in grooves, and putting her mouth to the aper-
ture thus disclosed, called out in a piping voice, "Messer
Piero !"
In a few moments Tito heard the sound of bolts, the door
opened, and Piero presented himself in a red night-cap and a
loose brown serge tunic, with sleeves rolled up to the shoulder.
He darted a look of surprise at Tito, but without further
notice of him stretched out his hand to take the basket from
the child, re-entered the house, and presently returning with
the empty basket, said, " How much to pay ?''
172 KO.MOLA.
" Two grossoni, Messcr Piero ; they are all ready boiled, my
motluT says."
rioro look the coin out of the leathern scarsclhi at his
belt, and the little maiden trotted away, not witliuiit a few
upward glances of awed admiration at the suqjrising young
signor,
"l^iero's glance was much less complimentary as he said,
" What do you want at my door, Messer Greco ? I saw you
this morning at Nello's ; if you had asked me then, I could have
told you that 1 see no man in tliis lionse without knowing ins
business and agreeing witli him boforeliand."
" Pardon, IMesser Piero," said Tito, with his imjtt'rturbablo
good-humor; "I acted without sutlicient rcllection. 1 re-
membcMvd nothing but your admirable skill in inventing pret-
ty ca])rices, when a sudden desire for something of that sort
prompted me to come to you."
The painter's manners were too notoriously odd to all the
world for this reception to be held a special affront ; but eveu
if Tito had suspected any offensive intention, the impulse to
resentment would have been less strong in him than the desire
to conquer good-will.
Piero made a grimace which was habitual with him Avlien
he was s|)oken to witii flattering suavity. He grinned, stretch-
ed out the corners of his mouth, and ])ressed down his brows,
so as to defy any divination of his feelings under tliat kind of
stroking.
" Aiid wliat may that need be ?" he said, after a moment's
pause. In his heait he was tempted by the hinted opportunity
of applying his invention.
" I want a very delieataminiatui-c device taken from certain
fables of tlie poets, which you will know how to combine for
me. It must be ])ainted on a wooden case — I will show you
the size— in tlie form of a triptych. The inside may be sim-
ple gilding: it is on the outside I want the device. It is a fa-
vorite subject with you Florentines— the triiunph of IJacchus
and Ariatycli."
Tito indicated the desired dimensions, and Piero marked
them on a piece of paper.
" And now for the book," said Piero, reaching down a
manuscript volume.
" There's nothing about tlie Ariadne there," said Tito, giv-
ing him the j)assage : " but you will remember I want the
crowned Aiiadneby the side of the young Bacchus ; she must
have golden hair."
"Ha!" said Piero, abruptly, pursing up his lips again.
" And you want them to be likenesses, eh ?" he added, looking
down into Tito's face.
Tito laughed and blushed. "I know you are great at por-
traits, Messer Piero ; but I could not ask Ariadne to sit for you,
because the painting is a secret."
" There it is ! I want her to sit to me. Giovanni Vespucci
wants me to })aint him a picture of G^^dijius and Antigone at
Colonos, as he has expounded it to me : I have a fancy for the
subject, and I want Bardo and his daughter to sit for it. Now
you ask them and tlien Fll ])ut the likeness into Ariadne."
^ "Agreed, if I can prevail with them. And your pi-icc for
the Bacchus and Ariadne ?"
'■'■Bale! If you get them to let me paint them, that Avill
pay me. Pd rather not have your money: you may pay for
the case."
" And when sliall I sit for you ?" said Tito, " for if we have
one likeness, we must have two."
" I don't want your likeness — I've got it already," said
Piero, '■' only Fve made you look frightened. I nuist take the
fright out of it for Bacchus."
As he was speaking Piero laid down the book and wont to
look among some paintings propped \\\\\\ their faces against
the wall. He returned with an oil-sketch in his haixl.
" I call this as good a bit of jiortrait as I ever did," he said,
looking at it, as he advanced. " Yours is a face that expresses
fear well, because it's naturally a bright one. I noticed it the
first time I saw you. The rest of the pictiire is hardly
sketcheil; but I've painted you in thorouglily."'
Piero turned the sketch and held it towards Tito's eyes. lie
saw himself with his right hand uplifted, holding a wine-cuj) in
ROMOJ-A, 175
the allitiidc of Iriuraphant joy, but with his face turned away
from the cup with an expression of such intense fear in the
dilated eyes and pallid lips that he felt a cold stream through
his veins as if he were being thrown into sympathy with his
imaged self.
" You are beginning to look like it already," said Piero, with
a short laugh, moving the picture away again. "He's seeing
a ghost — that fine young man. I shall finish it some day,
when I've settled what sort of ghost is the most terrible —
whether it should look solid, like a dead man come to life, or
half transparent like a mist,"
Tito, rather ashamed of himself for this strange and sud-
den sensitiveness, so opposed to his usual easy self-command,
said, carelessly :
" Tliat is a subject after your own heart, Messer Piero — a
revel intei'rupted by a ghost- You seem to love the blending
of the terrible with the ga^'. I suppose that is the reason your
shelves are so well furnished with death's-heads, while you are
painting those roguish love.s who are running away with the
armor of Mars. I begin to think you are a Cynic philosopher
in the pleasant disguise of a cunning painter."
" Xot I, Messer Greco ; a philosojiher is the last sort of an-
imal I would choose to resemble. I find it enough to live,
without spinning lies to account for life. Fowls cackle, asses
bray, women chatter, and philosophei-s spin false reasons —
that's the effect the sight of the world brinijs out of them.
Well, I ara an aninial that paints instead of cackling, or bray-
ing, or spinning lies. And now, I think, our business is done^
you'll keep to your side of the bargain about the Q^dipus and
Antigone?"
" I will do my best," said Tito — on this strong hint, imme-
diately moving towards the door.
"And you'll let me know at Xello's. No need to come
here again."
" I understand," said Tito, laughingly, lifting his hand io
sign of friendly parting.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE OLD man's HOPE.
Messek Bernardo del Xero was as inexorable as Roraola
had expected in his advice that the marriage should be defer^
red till Easter, and in this matter Bardo was entirely under
the ascendency of his sagacious and practical friend. Xever-
ITG UOMcI.A.
ihc'less, lU'inardt) liiinsi'lf, lliougli lie was as far as over from
any susccpliliility to the jjersoiial fascination in Tito ■wliieli
Avas felt by others, could not altocjether resist tliat argument
of success which is always powerful with men of the woi'ld.
Tito was makint; his way rajiidly in hii^h <|narters. lie Avas
osneeiallv trrowin*; in favor witii the vouii'4 Cardinal (.Jiovanni
de' ^Medici, who had even sjiokcn of Tito's forming \r.\Yt of his
learned retinue on an aii])roaching journey to Kome ; and the
blight young Greek, who liad a tongue tliat \vas always ready
withi>ut ever being ([uarrelsome, was more and more wished
for at gay sup[)ers in the Via Larga, and at Florentine games
in which he had no pretension to excel, and could admire ihe
incomparal)le skill of Piero de' ^Medici in the most gra<"efui
manner in the world. By an unfailing law of sequence, Tito's
reputation as an agi-eeable companion in '' magnificent" society
made his learning and talent appear more- lustrous ; and he
was really accom[jlislied enough to j)revent an exaggerated
estimate from being hazardous to him. IVIesser Bern.'irdo had
old jUH'judices and attacluncnts m Inch now began to argue down
the newer and feel.)ler j^rejudice against the yoimg Greek
stranger who was rather too supple. To the old Flcrentiue it
Avas impossible to des])ise the recommendation of standing Avell
Avith the best Florentine families, and since Tito began to be
thoroughly received into that circle whose views were the un-
questioned standard of social Aaluc, it seemed irrational not to
acbnit that there was no longer any check to satisfaction in
the ])rospect of such a son-in-law for Jiardo, and such a husband
for Komola. It was undeniable that Tito's comitig hail been
the dawn of a new life for both father and daughter, and the
first promise had even been surpasscnl. Tlii' blind old scholar
— whose proud truthfulness would never enti'r into that com-
merce of feigned and prei)osterous admiration which, varied
by a corres|)onding measurelessness in vitupi'ration, made the
Avoof of all learned intercourse — had fallen into neglect even
among his fellow-citizens, and when he was alluded to at all,
it had long been usual to say that though his blindness and loss
of his son were jiitiable misfoiluiu^s, he was tiresonu' in con-
tending for the value of his own lal)ors ; and that liis discon-
tent was a little inconsistent in a man who had been openly
regardless cf religious rites, and in days passed had reiused
offers made to him from various quarters, if he would (Jiily
take orders, without which it was not easy for patrons to pro-
vide for every scholar. But since Tito's coming there was no
longer the same monotony in the thought that Bardo's name
suggested; the oM man, it was understood, had left oft his
plaints, and the fair daughter was no longer to be shut up in
ROMOLA. 177
Powerless pride, waiting for ^ parentado. The winning man-
ners and growing favor of the handsome Greek wlio was
expected to enter into the double relation of son and husband
helped to make the new interest a thoroughly friendly one, and
it Avas no lons^er a rare occurrence when a visitor enlivened the
({uiet library. Elderly men came from that indefinite j^rompt-
ing to renew former intercourse Avhich arises when an old ac-
(luaintance beijins to be newlv talked about : and young men
wliom Tito had asked leave to bring once, found it easy to go
again when they overtook him on his way to the Via de' Bardi,
and, resting their hands on his shoulder, fell into easy chat wdth
Jiim. For it was pleasant to look at Romola's beauty : to see
her, like old Firenzuola's type of womanly majesty, " sitting
with a certain grandeur, speaking with gravity, smiling with
modesty, and casting around, as it were, an odor of queeuli-
ness ;"* and she seemed to unfold like a strong white lily un-
der this genial breath of admiration and homage ; it was all
one to her witli her new bright life in Tito's love.
Tito had even been the means of strengthening the hope in
Bardo's mind that he might before his death receive the longed-
for security concerning his library : that it should not be
merged in another collection ; that it should not be transfer-
red to a body of monks, and be called by the name of a mon-
astery; but that it should remain forever the Bardi Library,
for the use of Florentines. For the old habit of trusting in
th$ Medici could not die out while their influence was still the
strongest lever in the State ; and Tito, once possessing the ear
of the Cardinal Giovanni de' Medici, might do more even than
Messer Bernardo towards winning the desired interest, for he
could demonstrate to a learned audience the peculiar value of
Bardo s collection. Tito himself talked sanguinely of such a
result, willing to cheer the old man, and conscious that Romola
repaid those gentle wortls to her father with a sort of adora-
tion that no direct tribute to herself could have won from her.
This question of the library was the subject of more than
one discussion with Bernardo del Nero when Christmas Avas
turned and the prospect of the marriage was becoming near —
but always out of Bardo's hearing. For Bardo nursed a vague
belief, which they dared not disturb, that his property, apart
from the library, was adequate to meet all demands. He would
not even, except under a momentary pressure of angry de-
spondency, admit to himself that the will by Avhichhe had dis-
* " Quando una donna e grande, ben formata, porta ben sua persona, siede
con una certa grandezza, parla con gravita, ride con modestia, e finalniente
getta quasi un odor di Regina ; allora noi diciamo quella donna pare una maesta,
ella ha una maesta. "-^Firenzuola : Delia Bdlezza delle Donne.
178 KOMOLA.
iiilieritotl Dino would leave lloinola the heir of nothing hut
debts ; or tliat he needed any thing from patronage beyond
the security tliat a sejxirate locality should l)e assigned to his
librnrv, in return for a deed of gift by which he made it over
to till' Florentine llepublic.
" My opinion is," said Bernardo to Romola, in a consulta-
tion they had under the loggia, " that since you are to be mar-
ried, and .Ak'sscr Tito will have a competent income, we shouh!
begin to wind up the affairs, and ascertain exactly the sum
that would be necessary to save the library from being touched,
instead cf letting the debts accumulate any longer. Your fa-
ther needs nothing l)u.t his shred of mutton and his maccaroni
every day, and I think ]Messer Tito may engage to supply that
for the years that remain ; he can let it be in place of thanior-
gencapy
" Tito has always known that my life is bound up with my
father's," said Komola, flushing; " and he is better to my fa-
ther than I am : he delights in making him happy."
"Ah, he's not made of the same clay as other men, is he?"
said Bernardo, smiling. " Thy father has thought of shutting
woman's folly out of diee by cramming thee willi^ Greek and
Latin ; but thou hast been a"s ready to believe in the first pair
of bright eyes and the iirst soft Avords that have come within
reach of thee, as if thou couldst say nothing by heart but Pa-
ternosters, like other Christian men's daughters."
" Now, gotlfather," said IJomola, shaking her head playful-
ly," as if it were only bright eyes and soft words that made
me love Tito! You know better. You know T love my fa-
ther and you because you are both good ; and I love Tito, too,
because he is so good.' I see it, I feel it, in every thing he says
and does. And he is handsome, too: why should I not love
him the better for that ? It seems to me beauty is ))art of the
finished latiiiuage by which goodness speaks, ^'ou know //o?<
must have been a very handsome youth, godfather " — she
looked up with one of hei' happy, loving smiles at the stately
old man — "you were about as tall as Tito, and you had very-
fine eyes ; (.mly you looked a little sterner an\.rno, leading to the l*onte Kubaconte,
Tito had become aware, in one of these rapid surveys, that
there was some one not far off him by whom lie very much
vlesired not to lie recognized at that moment. His time and
thoughts were thoroughly i>reoccupied, for he was looking for-
ward to a unicpie occasion in his life — he was preparing for
liis betrotlial, which was to take jtlacc on the evening of this
very day. The ceremony had been resolved upon rather sud-
denly ; for although preparations towards tlie marriage had
been going forward for some time — chiefly in the application
of Tito's florins to the fittiiig-upof rooms in Hardo's (lwellinvere outwardly as well as inwai-dly jiledged to each other — if
he h;id a claim which delietl Messer J>eriiardo or any one else
to nullify it. For the betrothal, at which rings were e.v-
changed and mutual contracts were signed, made more than
half the legality of marriage, which was completed on a sepa-
rate occasion f)y the miptial lienediction. Komola's feeling
had met Tito's in this wish, and the consent of the elders had
been won.
And now Tito was hasteniuir. amids*. arrangements for liis
ROMOLA. 181
departure tlie next clay, to snatch a morning visit to Romola,
to say and hear any last words that were needfui to be said
bel'ore their meeting for the betrothal in the evening. It was
not a time when any recognition could be pleasant that was at
all likely to detain him: still less a recognition by Tessa,
And it was unmistakably Tessa whom he had caught sight of
moving along, with a timid and forlorn look, towards that
very turn of the Lung' Arno which he was just rounding.
As he continued his talk with the young Dovizi,he had an un-
comfortable under-current of consciousness which told him
that Tessa had seen him and would certainly follow him:
there was no escaping her along this direct road by the Arno,
and over the Ponte Rubaconte. But she would not dare to
speak to liim or approacli him while he "was not alone, and he
would continue to keep Dovizi with him till they reached Bar-
do's door. He quickened his pace, and took up new threads
of talk ; but all the while the sense that Tessa ^s^as behind
him, though he had no physical evidence of tlie fact, grew
stronger and stronger; it was very irritating — perhaps all the
more so because a certain tenderness and pity for the poor lit-
tle thing made the determination to escape without any visible
notice of her a not altogether agreeable resource. Yet Tito
persevered and carried his companion to the door, cleverly
managing his addio without turning his face in a direction
where it was possible for him to see an importunate pair of
blue eyes : and as he Avent up the stone steps, he tried to get
rid of unpleasant thoughts by sayinij to himself that, after all,
Tessa might not have seen him, or, if she had, might not have
followed him.
But — perhaps because that possibility could not be relied
on strongly — when the visit was over, he came out of the door-
way with a quick step and an air of unconsciousness as to any
thing that might be on his right hand or his left. Our eyes
are so constructed, however, that they take in a wide angle
without asking leave of our will ; and Tito knew that there
Avas a little figure in a white hood standing near the door-way
— knew it quite well, before he felt a hand laid on his arm.
It was a real grasp, and not a light, timid touch ; for poor
Tessa, seeing his rapid step, had started forward Avith a des-
perate effort. But when he stopped and turned towards her
her face wore a frightened look, as if she dreaded the effect of
her boldness.
" Tessa !" said Tito, with more sharpness in his voice than
she had ever heard in it before. " Why are you here ? You
must not follow me— you mus* not stand about door-places
waitincT for me,"
182 UOMOLA.
Her blue eyis wiileiieil with tears, ami ^lie said iiolliing.
Tito was afraiil of soiuethiiiu: worse than lidieiile if lie were
seen in the V'ui tie' Uardi with a ijirlish contadiiia lookini; ])a-
tlieticallv at him. It was a street of high, sileiit-lookiiit; dwell-
ings, not of trallic ; hut InTnardo del Nero, or some one almost
as dan«j;erous, niij^ht eome iqi at any monu-nt. Even if it had
not been tlu; day of his betrothal, the incident would have
been awkward and amioyini^. Yet it would be brutal — it
■■Aas im]>ossible — to drive Tessa away with harsh words. That
accursed folly of his with the ccrretano — that it should have lain
JMnieil in a (piiet way for months, and now start up before
him, as this unseasonable crop of vexatioi; ! lie could not
8peak harshly, but he spoke liurricdly.
" Tessa, I can not — must not talk to you licre. I will go
on to the bridge and wait for you there. Follow me slowly."
He tuined and walked fast to the Ponte liubaconte, atul
there leaned against the wall of one of the quaint little houses
that rise at even distances on the bridge, looking towards the
way by which Tessa would come. It would have softened a
much harder heart than Tito's to sec the little thing advancing
with her round face much jjaled and saddened since he had
parted from it at the door of the "• Xunziata." IIai)i>ily it
was the least frequented of the bridges, and there were scarce-
ly any passengers on it at this moment. He lost no time ij^
speaking as soon as she came near him.
" Now, Tessa, I have very little time. You must not cry.
Why did you follow me this morning ? You must not do so
again."'
" I thought," said Tessa, sjx'aking in a Avhispor, and strug-
gling atrainst a sob that would rise immediately at this new
voice of Tito's — " I thought you wouldn't be so long before
you came to take care of me again. And the p'i(r/'t//io beats
me, and 1 can't bear it any longer. And always when I come
for a holiday I walk about to find you, and I can't. Oh, i)lease
don't send *me away from you again ! It has been so long,
anil I cry so now, because you ni'Ver come to me. I can't help
it, for the days are so long, ami I don't mind about the goats
or kills, or any thing — and I can't — "
The sobs came fast now, and the great tears. Tito felt that
fic could not do otherwise than comfort her. Send her away
— yes; that he )/n/.'})iiig in the little key. "I shall drown it in
the Arno."
" lint if I ever wanted to look at the crucifix aixain?'"
" Ah ! for that very reason it is hidden — hidclen by these
iniaijes of youth and joy,"
He pressed a liLcht kiss on her brow, and she said no more,
ready to snlunit, like all strong souls, when she felt no valid
reason for resistance.
And then they joined the waiting company, which made a
dignified little ))rocession as it ])assed along the Pont*' liuba-
conte towards Santa Croce. Slowly it passed, for Hardo, un-
accustomed for years to leave his own house, walkctl with a
more timid step than usual; and that slow pace suited well
with the gouty dignity of Messer liartolommeo Scala, who
graced the occasion by his presence, along with his daughter
Alessandra. It was customary to have very long troops of
kindred and friends at the sposalizio, ov betrothal, and it had
even been found necessary in time past to limit the number by
la\\ to no more \\v.in Jour handred — two hundred on each side ;
for since the guests were all feasted after this initial ceremo-
ny, as well as after the nozzc, or marriage, the very first stage
of matrimony had l)ecome a ruinous expense, as that scholarly
Benedict, Leonardo Bruno, complained in his own case. But
Bardo, who in his poverty had kept himself ])roudly free from
any appearance of claiming the advantages attached to a |)Ow-
erful family name, would have no invitations given on the
strength of mere friendship; and the modest procession of
twenty that followed the s^yosi were, with three or four excep-
tions, friends of l>ardo's and Tito's, selected on personal
grounils.
Bernardo del Nero walked as a vanguard before Bardo,
who was led on the right by Tito, while Bomola held her fa-
ther's other hand. Bardo had himself been married at Santa
Croce, and had insisted on Bomohrs Ijeing betrothed and mar-
ried there rather than in the little church of Santa Lucia close
by their house, because he had a comiilcte mental vision of the
grand church where he hoped that a burial might be granted
him among the Florentines who had deserved well. Happily
che way was short and direct, and lay aloof from tlie louendent on the
primary circulation of the sap, so the fortunes of Tito and Ivo-
mola were dependent on certain granhanta.smal fiery war-
riors to flight in the air, and (juadrupeds to brinjj; forth mon-
strous births — that it did not belong to the usual order of
Providence, l)ut was in a peculiar sense the work of (Jod. It
was a conviction that rested less on the necessarily momentous
ciiaracter of a powerful foreign invasion than on certain mor-
al emotions to which the asj)cct of tlie times gave the form of
presentiments — emotions which had found a very remarkable
utterance in the voice of a single man.
That man was Fra Girolamo Savonarola, Prior of the Do-
minican convent of San Marco in Florence. On a September
morning, when men's ears were ringing with the news that the
Frencli army had entered Italy, he had preached in the Cathe-
dral of Florence from the text," IJehold, I, even I, do bring a
flood of waters iipon the earth." He believed it was by su-
preme guidance that he had reached just so far in his exposi-
tion of Genesis the previous Lent; and he believed the " flood
of waters " — emblem at once of avenging wrath and ])urifying
mercy — to be the divinely indicated symbol of the French army.
His audience, some of whom were held to be among the choicest
spirits of the age — the most cultivated men in the most cult i vated
of Italian cities— believed it too, and listened with shuddering
awe. For this man had a power, rarely j)aralleled, of impressmg
his beliefs on others, and of swaying very various minds. And
as long as four years ago he had jn-oclain^-y'd from the chief ]>ul-
pit of Florence that a scourge was about to descend on Italy,
and that by this scourge the Church was to be purified. Savona-
rola believed, and his hearers more or less waveringly believed,
that he had a mission like that of the Hebrew prophets, and
that the Florentines among whom his message was delivered
were in some sense a second chosen peoi)le. The idea of pro-
phetic gifts was not a remote one in that age : seers of vis-
ions, circumstantial heralds of things to be, were far from un-
eonunon either outside or inside the cloister; but tbis very
fact made Savonarola stand out the more conspicuously as a
grand exc('|)tion. While in others llu> gift of prophecy was
very much like a farthing candle illuminating small corners of
human destiny with ])rophetic gossip, in Savonarola it was
like a mighty beacon shining far out for the warning and guid-
ance of men. And to sonu' of the soberest min»'en ciu-ouragc^d
by his j)rcsencc' to throw off the Florentine yoke; and ' "Ji'ar
tors," even with a prophet at their head, cf»uUl wii; no 'iSSur-
anee from him,e.\eei>t that he would settle every tljiiit; when
be was once within the walls of Florence. Still, tiiercwas tho
satisfaction of knowint; that the exasperatii\g P'-^ro de' Medi-
ci had been fairly pelted out for the ignominious surrender of
the fortresses, anil in that act of energy the spirit of the Re-
public had recovered some of its old iirc.
The i)reparations for the e(piivocal guest were not entirely
those of a cilv resiarations
of another sort made with common accord by government and
peoj)le. Well hidden within walls there were hired soldiers
of the Kepublic, hastily called in from the surrounding dis-
tricts ; there were old arms newly furbished, and sharj) tools
and heavy cudgels laid carefully at hand, to be snatched up on
short notice ; there were excellent boartls and stakes to forni
barricades upon occasion, and a good supj)ly of stones to make
a surprising hail from the upjter windows. Above all, there
were people very strongly in the humor for lighting any ])er-
sonage who might be supposed to liave designs of hectoring
over them, Imving lately tasted that new pleasure with much
relish. This humor was not diminished by the sight of occa-
sional parties of Frenchmen, coming beforehand to choose their
quarters, with a liawk, perhaps, on their left wrist, and, meta-
phorically speaking, a piece of chalk in their right hand to
mark Italian doors withal; especially as credible historians
imjily that many sons of France were at that time character-
ized 'by sometlung ai>i)roaching to a swagger, which must
have whetted the Florentine appetite for a little stone-throwing.
And this was the temper of Florence on the morning of the
seventeenth of November, 1494.
CIIAPTEU XXII.
THE PRISONERS.
Thr sky was gray, but that made little difTcrcnco in the
Piazza delDuomo, which was covered with its huliuttiiig. Thou art not such a pumpkin-head
:is r took thee for. AVhy, they might have gone to Naples by
iJoloiTiia, eh, Ser Cioni? or if they'd gone to Arezzo — wo
wouldn't have minded their going to Arezzo."
"Fools! It will be for the good and glory of Florence,"
Ser Cioni began. l>ul he was interrupted by the exclamation,
" Look there !" wliich burst from several yoices at once, while
the faces were all turned to a party who were advancing along
the Via de' Cerretani.
" It's Lorenzo Tornabuoni, and one of the French noblemen
* '■'^ Ln vnrcn viiif;/in " was tlie phrase lor tlic sounding of tlio j^-cat bell in
the tower of tlic Palazzo Veccliio.
+ Tlie i)oorcr artisans connected with the wool trade — wool-bcaters, carders^
washers, etc.
KOMOLA. 197
who are in liis house," said Ser Cioni, in some contempt at
this interruption. " He pretends to look well satisfied — that
deep Tornabuoni — but he's a Medicean in his heart : mind
that."
The advancing party was rather a brilhant one, for there
was not only the distinguished presence of Lorenzo Tornabu-
oni, and the splendid costume of the Frenchman with his
elaborately displayed Avhite linen and gorgeous embroidery;
there Avere two other Florentines of high birth in handsome
dresses donned for the coming procession, and on the left
hand of the Frenchman was a figure that was not to be eclipsed
by any amount of intention or brocade — a figure we have oft-
en seen before. He wore nothing but black, for he Avas in
mourning; but the black was presently to be covered by a
red mantle, for he too was to walk in procession as Latin Sec-
retaiy to the DiecA. Tito Melema had become conspicuously
serviceable in the intercourse with the French guests, from
his familiarity with Southern Italy, and his readiness in the
French tongue, which he had spoken in his early youth ; and
he had paid more than one visit to the French camp at Signa.
The lustre of good fortune was upon him; he was smiling,
listening, and explaining, with his usual graceful unpreten-
tious ease, and only a very keen eye bent on studying him could
have marked a certain amount of change in him wliich Avas
not to be accounted for by the lapse of eighteen months. It
was that change Avhich comes from the final departure of
moral youthfulness — from the distinct self-conscious adoption
of a part in life. The lines of the face Avere as soft as ever,
the eyes as pellucid ; but something Avas gone — something as
indefinable as the changes in the morning twilight.
The Frenchman Avas gathering instructions concerning cer-
emonial before riding back to Signa, and noAV he was going to
have a final survey of the Piazza del Duomo, Avhere the royal
procession Avas to pause for religious purposes. The distin-
guished party attracted the notice of all eyes as it entered the
piazza, but the gaze Avas not entirely cordial and admiring ;
there Avere remarks not altogether allusive and mysterious to
the Frenchman's hoof-shaped shoes — delicate flattery of royal
superfluity in toes ; and tliere Avas no care that certain snarl-
ings at " Mediceans " should be strictly inaudible. But Lo-
renzo Tornabuoni possessed that power of dissembling annoy-
ance Avhich is demanded in a man Avho courts popularity, and
to Tito's natural disposition to overcome ill-will by good-lui-
mor, there Avas added the unimpassioned feeling of the alien
toAvards names and details that move the deepest passions of
the native. Arrived where they could .get a good oblique
108 ROMOLA,
vii'W of the Dnomo, the party paused. Tlie festoons and do-
vices that had been ])laced over the central door-way excited
some demur, and Tornabuoni beckoned to l^icro di Cosimo,
who, as was usu:il with liim at this hour, was hiungiiiLf in front
of Nello's sliop. Tliere was soon an animateil iteous tones,
" For the love of (lod and the Holy IMadonna, give us somo-
thing towards our ransom ! We are Tuscans : we were made
prisoners in Lmiigiana."
JJut the third nian remained obstinately silent under all the
strokes from the knotted cord. He was very different in as-
jiect from his two fellow-prisoner.s". They were young and
iiardy, and, in the scant clolhinix which the avarice of their
captors hald one !" Ill' piped in the priso-ier's ear, as soon as
the cord was in two; and himself set l\\v example of running
as if he were helped along with wings, like a scared fowl.
The jtrisoner's sensations were not too slow for him to seize
the opportunity: the idea of escajie had been continually pres-
ent with him, and he had gathered fresh hope from t!ie temper
of the crowd. IIo ran at once; but his speed would hardly
liave sufficed for him if the Florentines had not instantaneous-
ly rushed between him and his captor. He ran on into the
piazza, but he (piickly heard the tramp of feet behind him, for
the other two prisoners had been released, and the soldiers
were struggling and fighting their way after them, in such
tardigrade fashion as their hoof-shaped shoes would allow — im-
peded, but not very resolutely attacked, by the people. One
of the two younger ])risoiiers turne(l up the liorgo di San
Lorenzo, and thus made a i)artial iliversion of the hubbub;
but the main struggle was still towards the ])iazza, where all
eyes were turned on it with alarmed curiosity. The cause
could not be ])recisely guessed, for the French dress was
screened by the impeding crowd.
" An escape of j)risoners," said Lorenzo Tornabuoni, as he
and his party turned round just against the steps of the
Duomo, and saw a ])risoner rushing by them. 'The people
are not content with having emptied the liargello the other
day. If there is no other authority in sight tlu-y must fall on
the sfi/'n'i and socin'c freedom to thieves. Ah! there is a
French soldier : that is more serious."
The soldier he saw was struggling along on the north side
of the pia/./.a, but the object of his ])ursuit had taken the
other direction. That ol)ject was the eldest prisoner, who had
wheeled round the Bai)tistery and was running towards i.heTiu'
ROMOLA. 201
orao, determined to take refuge in that sanctuary rather than
trui>t to Ids speed. But in mounting the steps his foot re-
ceived a shock ; he Avas precipitated towards tlie group of
slfjnon, whose backs were turned to him, and was only able
to recover his balance as he clutched one of them by the arm.
It was Tito Melema who felt that clutch. He turned his
liead, and saw the face of his adopted father, Baldassarre Cal'
vo, close to his own.
The two men looked at each other, silent as death ; Baldas-
sarre, with dark fierceness and a tightening grip of the soiled
worn hands on the velvet-clad arm ; Tito, with cheeks and
lips all bloodless, fascinated by terror. It seemed a long
while to them — it was but a moment.
The first sound Tito heard was the short laugh of Piero
di Cosimo, who stood close by him and was the only person
that could see his face.
" Ila, ha ! I know what a ghost should be now."
" This is another escaped prisoner," said Lorenzo Torna-
buoni. " Who is he, I wonder ?"
" Some madman, surely,^'' said Tito.
He hardly knew how the words had come to his lips : there
are moments when our passions speak and decide for us, and
we seem to stand by and wonder. They carry in them an in-
spiration of crime, that in one instant does the work of long
premeditation.
The two. men had not taken their eyes off each other, and
it seemed to Tito, when he had spoken, that some magical
poison had darted from Baldassarre's eyes, and that he felt it
rushing through his veins. But the next instant the grasp on
his arm had relaxed and Baldassarre had disappeared within
the Church.
CHAPTER XXIII.
AFTER-THOUGHTS.
" You are easily frightened, though," said Piero, with
another scornful laugh. " My portrait is not as good as the
oriajinah But the old fellow had a ticrer look : I must co
into the Duomo and see him again."
" It is not pleasant to be laid hold of by a madman, if mad-
man he be," said Lorenzo Tornabuoni, in polite excuse of
Tito ; "but perhaps he is only a ruffian. We shall hear. I
think we must see if we have authority enough to stop this
disturbance between our people and your countrymen," he
added, addressing the Frenchman.
n4:
202 ROMOLA.
Tlicy advancotl towards tlic crowd with tlicir swords
drawn, all the ia/,za held memories, and ])revisions, and torturing fears,
tliat might have made the history of months. He felt as if a
Rerpent had begun to coil i-ound his limbs. r>aldass:uTe living,
and in Florence, was ;i li\ ing revenge, which would no more
rest than a winding serpent would rest until it liad crushed
its ])rey. It was not in the nature of that man to let an in-
jury pass unavenged: his love and his hatn-d were of that
ROilOLA. 203
passionate fervov which suhjiigatos all the rest of the being,
and makes a man sacrifice himself to his passion as if it Avere
a deity to be worshipped with self-destruction. Baldassarre
liad relaxed his hold and had disappeared. Tito knew well
how to interpret that : it meant that the vengeance was to be
studied that it might be sure. If he had not nttcred those
decisive words — "He is a madman" — if he could have sum-
moned np the state of mind, the courage necessary for avow-
ing his recognition of Baldassarre, would not the risk have
been less ? He might have declared himself to have had
what he believed to be positive evidence of Baldassarre's
death ; and tlie only persons Avho could ever liave had positive
knowledge to contradict him were Fra Lnca, who was dead,
and the crew of the companion galley, who liad brought him
the news of the encounter witli the pirates. The chances
were infinite against Baldassarre's having met again Avith any
one of the crew, and Tito thought with bitterness that a
timely, well-devised falsehood might have saved him from any
fatal consequences. But to have told that falsehood Avould
have required perfect self-command in the moment of a con-
vulsive shock : he seemed to have spoken without any precon-
ception — the words had leaped forth like a sudden birth
that has been begotten and nourislied in the darkness.
Tito Avas experiencing that inexorable laAv of human souls,
that Ave prepare ourselves for sudden deeds by the reiterated
clioice of good or evil that gradually determines character.
There Avas but one chance for him noAV — tlie chance of
Baldassarre's failure in finding his revenge. And — Tito grasp-
ed at a thouglit more actively cruel than any he had ever
encouraged before — might not his OAvn unpremeditated Avords
have some truth in them '? enough truth, at least, to bear him
out in his denial of any declaration Baldassarre might make
about hini '? The old man looked strange and wild : with his
eager heart and brain, sutfering was likely enough to have pro-
duced madness. If it Avere so, the veng-eance that strove to
inflict discjrace raio-ht be baflied.
CD CD
But there was another form of vengeance not to be baflied
by ingenious lying. Baldassarre belonged to a race to Avhom
the thrust of the dagger seems almost as natural an impulse
as the outleap of the tiger's talons. Tito shrank Avith shud-
dering dread from disgrace; but he had also that physical
dread Avhich is inseparable from a soft, pleasure-loving nature,
a id Avhich prcA'ents a man from ineeting Avounds and death
a=5 n Avelcome relief from disgrace. His thoughts flcAv at once
ta some hidden defensive armor that might save him from a
vengeance which no subtlety could pany.
204 KOMOLA.
lie wondered at the power of t'ne passionate fear tliat pos-
sessed liiiii. It was as if lie liad l)i'eii smitten with a blialdassarre ai^ain, eonfi'ssed every tiling
to hiiu — to Koniola — to all tlu- wctrld. Hut he never thought
of that. 'Hie repentance which cuts off all moorings to evil
demands something more tlian selfish fear. lie had no sense
tlut there was strength and safety in truth, the only strength
he trusted to lay in his ingenuity and his dissimulation. Now
the first shock, which had called up the traitorous signs of
fear, was well past, he hoped to be jirepared for all emergeu-
cies by cool deceit — and defensive armor.
It was a characteristic fact in Tito's e.vperience at this cri-
sis tliat no direct measures for ridding himself of IJaldassarro
over occuri'ed to him. All other possibilities ))asser ( > ,
WiiE.v Baldassarre, with his hands bound together, and
the rope round his neck and body, pushed his way behind tho
curtain, and saw the interior of the Diiomo before him, he gavo
a start of astonishment, and stood still against the door-way.
He had expected to see a vast nave em|)ty of every thing but
lifeless eml)lems — side altars with candles unlit, dim pictures,
)«ale and i-igid statues, with jierhaps a few M'orshipj)ers in the
distant choir following a monotonous chant. That was the
ordinary aspect of churches to a man who never went into
them with anv religious ]»urpose.
^Vnil he saw, instead, a vast multitude of warm, living faces,
upturned in breathless silence towards the pulpit, at the angle
Ror.roLA. 205
between the nave and the choir. The multitude was of all
ranks, from magistrates and dames of gentle nurture to coarse-
ly-chid artisans and country people. In the pulpit was a Do-
laiiiican monk, with strong features and dark hair, preaching
with the cruciiix in his hand. For the first few minutes Bal-
dassarre noted nothing of his preaching. Sdent as his en-
trance had been, some eyes near the door-way had been turn-
ed on him with surprise and suspicion. The rope indicated
plainly enough that he was an escaped prisoner, but in that
case the church was a sanctuary which he had a right to claim ;
his advanced yeai"s and look of wild misery were fitted to ex-
cite pity rather than alarm ; and as he stood motionless, with
eyes that soon wandered absently from the wide scene before
him to the pavement at his^ feet, those who had observed his
entrance presently ceased to regard him, and became absorbed
again in the stronger interest of listening to the sermon.
Among the eyes that had been turned towards him were Kom-
ola's ; she had entered late through one of the side doors, and
was so placed that she had a full view of the main entrance.
She had looked long and attentively at Baldassarre, for gray
hairs made a peculiar appeal to her, and the stamp of some un-
wonted suffering in the face, confirmed by the cord round the
neck, stirred in her those sensibilities towards the sorrows of
age, which her whole life had tended to develop. She fiincied
that his eyes had met hers in their first wandering gaze, but
Baldassarre had not, in reality, noted her; he had only had a
startled consciousness of the general scene, and the conscious-
ness was a mere flash that made no perceptible break in the
fierce tumult of emotion which the encounter with Tito had
created. Images from the past kept urging themselves upon
him like delirious visions strangely blended with thirst and
anguish. No distinct thought for the future could shape it-
self in the midst of that fiery passion ; the nearest approach
to such thought Avas the bitter sense of enfeebled powers, and
a vague determination to universal distrust and suspicion.
Suddenly he felt himself vibrating to loud tones, Avhich seem-
ed like the thundering echo of his own passion. A voice that
penetrated his very marrow Avith its accent of triumphant
certitude Avas saying, "The day of vengeance is at hand!"
Baldassarre quivered and looked uj). He Avas too distant
to see more than the general aspect of the preacher standing
with his right arm out-stretched, lifting up the crucifix ; but
he panted for the threatening voice again as if it had been a
promise of bliss. There Avas a pause before the preacher
spoke again. He gradually loAvered his arm. He deposited
the crucifix on the edge of the pulpit, and crossed his arras
200 noMOLA.
over his ])roast, lonkiiijx round at the iiuiltitudo as if lie wouhl
meet tlie i^laiu-r of every iiidivitlual laee.
"Ail ve ill Florciici' are my wit iiesses, for I spoke not in a
corner. ^'(' ari' iiiv wit nesses, that four yi-ars ai^o, when there
were vet no siijns of war and tril)iilation, 1 preaehed the
coining of the seonrge. I lith-d up my voiee as a tiuinpet
to the prelates and jtrinces and people of Italy, and said, the
cup of your ini(|uity is fiiU. I>fli<>l(l, the thunder olthe Lord
is gathering and it shall fall and Incak the cuj), and your
iiTupiitv, which seems to you as ])U'asant wine, shall hi' poiir-
eil out upon you, and shall be as molten lead. ^Vnd you, ( >
j)riests, who say, Ila, ha ! there is no Presence in the sanctua-
ry — the Shechina is natight — the i\Ierey-seat is bare; wo
may sin l)ehind the veil, and who shall punish us? To you I
said the ])resenee of (iod shall he revealed in his temple as a
consuming tire, and your sacred garments shall hecorne a
winding-sheet of flame, and lor sweet music there shall he
shrieks and hissing, and for soft couches there shall he thorns,
and for the breath of wantons shall come the pestilence.
Trust not in your gold and silver, trust not in your high for-
tresses ; for though the walls were of iron, and the for-
tresses of adamant, the Most High shall put terror into your
hearts and weakness into your councils, so that you sliall be
confounded and ilee like women. lie shall break in ]>ieces
mighty men without number, and j»ut others in their stead.
For God will no longer endure the pollution of his sanctua-
ry ; he will thoroughly j)urge his Church.
"And forasmucii as it is written that (iod will do Jiothing
but lie revealcth it to his servants the ]>ro|)liets, he has chosen
me his unworthy servant, and made llis purpose jiresent to^
my soul in the living word of the Scrijitures ; and in the deeds
of His Providence; and by the ministry of angels he has re-
vealed it to me in visions. And His word possesses me so
that I am but as the branch <>f the forest when the wind of
lieaven peiu^trates it, and it is not in me to keep silence,
even though I may l)e a derision to the scorner. And for
four years I liave preached in obedience to the Divine will :
in the face of scolling I have ])reached three things which
the Lonl has delivered to me: that in these times (iod will
regenerate His Church, and that before the regeneration must
come the scourge over all Italy, and that these things will
come (prn-kly. IJut hypocrites who cloak their hatred of the
truth with a show of lo've liave said to me, ' Come now, Frate,
leave your prophesyings: it is enough to teach virtue.' To
these I answer: ' "^ es, you say in your hearts, (iod lives afar
off, and His word is as a parchment written by dead men, and
ROMOLA, 207
lie deals not as in the days of old, rebuking tlie nations, and
punishing tlie oppressors, and smiting tlie unholy priests as
he smote the sons of Eli.' But I cry again in your ears .
God is near and not afar otf; His judgments change not. He
is the God of armies ; the strong men who go up to battle are
his ministers, even as the storm, and fire, and pestilence. He
drives them by the breath of His angels, and they come upon
the chosen land which has forsaken the covenant. And thou,
O Italy, art the chosen land : has not God placed his sanctua-
ry Avithin thee, and thou hast polluted it ? Behold ! the min-
isters of liis wrath are upon thee — they are at thy very door."
Savonarola's voice had been rising in impassioned force up
to this point, when he became suddenly silent, let his hands
fall, and clasped them quietly before him. His silence, in-
stead of beins: the sisjjnal for small movements among his au-
dience, seemed to be as strong a spell to them as his voice.
Through the vast area of the cathedral men and women sat
with faces upturned, like breathing statues, till the voice was
heard again in clear low tones.
" Yet there is a pause — even as in the days Avhen Jerusa-
lem was destroyed tliere was a pause, that the children of
God might flee from it. There is a stillness before the storm :
lo ! there is blackness above, but not a leaf quakes : the winds
are stayed, that the voice of God's warning may be lieard.
Hear it now, O Florence, chosen city in the chosen land!
Repent and forsake evil: do justice : love mercy : put away
all uncleanness from among you, that the spirit of truth and
holiness may fill your souls and breathe through all your
streets and habitations, and then the pestilence shall not en-
ter, and the sword shall pass over you and leave you unhurt,
" For the sword is hanging from the sky ; it is quivering ;
it is about to fall ! The sword of God upon the earth, swift and
sudden ! Did I not tell you, years ago, that I had beheld the
vision and heard the voice ? And beliold, it is fulfilled ? Is
there not a king with his army at your gates? Does not the
earth shake with the tread of horses and the wheels of swift
cannon ? Is there not a fierce multitude that can lay bare
the land as with a sharp razor? I tell you the French king
with his army is the minister of God : God shall guide him
as the hand guides a sharp sickle, and the joints of the wick-
ed shall melt before him, and they shall be mown down as
Btubble: he that fleeth of them shall not flee away, and he
that escapeth of them shall not be delivered. And the ty-
rants who make to themselves a throne out of the vices of
the multitude, and the unbelieving priests who trafiic in the
souls of men and fill the very sanctuary with fornication.
208 KOMOLA.
sliall be luirlt'd from their soft couches into burnini; hell: ;in(1
the ])agrins and they -who sinned under the old covenant shall
stantl aloof and nay: ' Lo ! these men have brouijht the
stench of a new wickedness into the everlastiuLj tire.'
" But thou, O Florence, take the offered mercy. See ! the
Cross is held out to you : come and be healed. Which
among the nations of Italy has had a token like unto voursf
The tyrant is driven out from among you: the men who
Iield a bribe in their left hand and a rod in tlieir right are
gone forth, and no blood has been sj)illed. And now put
away every other abomination from among you, and you
shall be strong in the strength of the living God. Wash
yourself from the black piteh of your vices, Aviiich have made
you even as the heathens: j)ut away the envy and hatred
that liave made your city as a nest of wolves. And there
shall no harm happen to you: and the ])assage of armies
shall be to you as the tlight of birds, and rebellious Pisa
shall be given to you again, and famine and ]»estilence shall
be far from your gates, and you shall be as a beacon among
the nations. 15ut, mark ! while you suffer the accursed thing
to lie in the cami) vou shall be afflicted and tormented, even
though a remnant among you may be saved."
These admonitions and promises had been spoken in an
incisive tone of authority; but in the next sentence the
preacher's voice melted into a strain of entreaty:
" Listen, O people, over whom my heart yearns, as the
heart of a mother over the children she has travailed for!
(iod is my witness that but for your sakes I Avould willingly
live as a turtle in the de])ths of the forest^^inging low to
my Beloved, who is mine and I am His. For you I toil, for
you I languish, for you my nights are spent in watching, and
my soul melteth away for very heaviness. C) Lord, thou
knowest I am willing — I am reaint beyond it into questions — he
was possessed by it as the Avar-horse is possessed by the
clash of sounds. No Avord that Avas not a threat touched
his consciousness ; he had no fibre to be thrilled by it. But
the fierce exultant delight to which he Avas moved by the
idea of perpetual vengeance found at once a climax and a re-
lieving outburst in the preacher's Avords of self-sacrifice. To
Baldassarre those Avords only brought the vague triumphant
sense that he too Avas dcA'oting himself — sioninir Avith his
210 ROMOL.V.
own blood tlio deed 1)}' whidi lie gave himself over to an nn-
endins; lire, tliat would seem but coolness to his burnintr
hatred.
" I rescued liiiu — I cherished him — if I mitxht clutch Ids
heart-strings forever! Come, O blessed promise ! Let my
bh)i)d llow; let tlic tire consiiine me!"
The one chord vibrated to its utmost. Haldassarre clutch-
ed his own ]>alms, driving his long nails into them, and burst
into a sob with the rest.
CHAPTER XXV.
OUTSIDE TIIK DUOMO,
While Baldassarre was possessed by the voice of Savo-
narola he had not noticed that another Jiian hail entered
tiirough tlie door-way behind liim, and stood nut l:ir otf ob-
serving him. It was l*iero di Cosimo, who took no heed of
the ])reaching, having come solely to look at the escaped
jirisoner. Dui-ing tlie ])ause in which the preacher and ids
audience had given tlicmselves up to inarticuhitc emotion,
the new-comer advanced and touched Baldassarrc on the
ai"m. ITe lookcil round with the tears still slowly rolling
down liis face, V)ut wilii a \ igorous sigh, as if he had done
with that outburst. The painter spoke to him in a low
tone :
"Siiall [ cut your cords for you ? I have heard how you
Avere made prisoner."
lialdassarre did not reply immediately: he glanced suspi-
ciduslv at the othc-ious stranger. At last he' said, " If you
will."'
"Better come outside," said Piero.
Pald.-kssarre again looked at him suspiciously; and Piero,
partly guessing his thought, smiled, took out a "knife, and cut
the cords. He began to think that tlie idea of the i)risoiuM-''8
madness was not improbable, there was something so peculiar
in the expression of his face. "Well," he thought, " if he
us look and a tone which had some quiet decision
in it.
ROM OLA. 21 1
" No, I have nothing to tell."
" As you please," said Piero ; " but perhaps yon vvant shel-
ter, and may not know how hospitable we Florentines are to
visitors with torn doublets and empty stomachs. There's a
liospital for poor travellers outside all our gates, and, if you
liked, I could put you in the way to one. There's no danger
from your P^rench soldier. He has been sent oif."
Baldassarre nodded, and turned in silent acceptance of the
offer, and he and Piero left the church together.
"You wouldn't like to sit to me for your portrait, should
you ?" said Piero, as they w^ent along the Via dell' Orinolo,
on the way to tlie gate of Santa Croce. " I am a painter ; I
would give you money to get your portrait."
The sus]iicion returned into Baldassarre's glance, as he
looked at Piero, and said decidedly, " No."
"Ah!" said the painter, shortly. "Well, go straight on,
and you'll find the Porta Santa Croce, and outside it there's
a hospital for travellers. So you'll not accej^t any service
from me?"
"I give you thanks for what you have done already. I
need no more."
"It is well," said Piero, Avith a shrug, and they turned
away from each other.
"A mysterious old tiger!" thought the artist, "well,
worth painting. Ugly — Avith deep lines — looking as if the
plough and the harrow had gone over his heart. A fine con-
trast to my bland and smiling Messer Greco — my Bacco
trioiifante, who has married the fair Antigone in contradic-
tion to all history and fitness. Aha ! his scholar's blood
curdled uncomfortably at the old fellow's clutch."
When Piero re-entered the Piazza del Duomo the multi-
tude who had been listening to Fra Girolamo were pouring
out from all the doors, and the haste they made to go on
their several ways Avas a proof how important they held the
preaching Avhich had detained them from the other occupa-
tions of the day. The artist leaned against an angle of the
Baptistery and Avatchcd the departing crowd, delighting in
the variety of the garb and of the keen characteristic faces —
faces such as Masaccio had painted more than fifty years be-
fore : such as Domenico Ghirlandajo had not yet quite left
off painting.
This morning Avas a peculiar occasion, and the Frate's au-
dience, ahvays multiflxrious, had represented even more com-
pletely than usual the \arious classes and political parties of
Florence. There Avere men of high birth, accustomed to pub-
lic charges at home and abroad, Avho had become newly con*
212 ROMOLA,
spicuous not only as enemies of llie Medici and friends of
popidar government, but as thorou<;h 7>?V/r///o;i/, espousinj^ to
the nttHenevieni hastening, ];erhaps, to
carry tidings of the beloved Frate's speedy coming to bis
friend Pico della ]Mirandola, Avho Avas never to see the liirht
of another morning. There Avere well-born Avomen attired
Avith such scrupulous plainness that their nu>re refined grace
Avas the chief distinction bctAveen them and their less aristo-
cratic sisters. There Avas a predominant proiiortion of the
Ti^wnww popohini or middle class, l)elonging both to the Ma-
jor and Minor Arts, conscious of purses threatened by Avar
taxes. And more striking and various, ])eiha)»s, than all the
other classes of the Frate's disciples, there Avas the long
stream of poorer tradesmen and artisans, Avhose faith and
hope in his Divine message varied from tl:e rude nndiscrim-
inating trust in him as the friend of the poor and the enemy
of the luxurious oppressive rich, to tiiat eager tasting of oi)le in Florence were
glad the entrance of the new Charlemagne was fairly over.
Doubtless, when the roll of drums, the blast of trumpets, and
the tramp of horses along the Pisan road began to mingle with
the pealing of the excited bells, it was a grand moment for
those who Were stationed on turreted roofs, and could see the
long-winding terrible ])om]) on the background of the green
hills and valley. There was no sunshine to light up the splen-
dor of banners, and sjjcars, and jiluines, and silken surcoats,
but there was no thick cloud oT tiust to hide it ; and as the
picked troops advanced into close view they could be seen all
the more distinctly for the absence of dancing glitter. Tall
and tough Scotch archers, Swiss halberdiers fierce and ])onder-
ous, nimble ( Jascons ready to wheel and climb, cav:dry in which
each man looked like a knight-enant with his indomitable
spear and charger — it was satisfactory to be assured that they
would injure nobody but the enemies of God ! With that
RO:»IOLA. 215
confidence at heart it was a less dubious pleasure to look at
the array of strength and splendor in nobles, and knights, and
youthful pages of choice lineage — at the bossed and jewelled
sword-hilts, at the satin scarfs embroidered with strange sym-
bolical devices of pious or gallant meaning, at the gold chains
and jewelled aigrettes, at the gorgeous horse-trappings and
brocaded mantles, and at the transcendent canopy carried by
select youths above the head of the Most Christian King. To
sura up with an old diarist, whose spelling and diction halted
a little behind the wonders of this royal visit — "/"tl gran niag-
nificenzar
But for the Signoria, who had been waiting on their platform
against the gates, and had to march out at the right moment,
with their orator in front of them, to meet the mighty guest,
the grandeur of the scene had been somewhat screened by un-
pleasant sensations. If Messer Luca Corsini could have had a
brief Latin welcome depending from his mouth in legible char-
acters, it would have been less confusing when the rain came
on, and created an impatience in men and horses that broke
off the delivery of his well-studied periods, and reduced the
representatives of the scholarly city to offer a make-shift wel-
come in impromptu French. Ikit that sudden confusion had
created a great opportunity for Tito. As one of the secretaries
he was among the officials who were stationed behind the Si;;-
noria, and with whom these highest dignities were proi:iiscu-
ously thrown when pressed upon by the horses.
" Somebody step forward and say a few words in French,"
said Soderini. But no one of high importance chose to risk a
second failure. " You, Francesco Gaddi, you can speak." But
Gaddi, distrusting his own promptness, hung back, and, push-
ing Tito, said, " You, Melema."
Tito stepped forward in an instant, and with the air of pro-
found deference that came as naturally to him as walking, said
the few needful words in the name of the Signoria, then gavo
Avay gracefully, and let the king jiass on. His jjresence of mind,
which had failed him in the terrible crisis of the morning, had
been a ready instrument this time. It was an excellent livery
servant that never forsook him when danger was not visible.
But when he was complimented on his opportune service, he
laughed it off as a thing of no moment, and to those M'ho had
not witnessed it, let Gaddi have the credit of the improvised
welcome. Xo wonder Tito was popular : the touchstone by
which men try us is most often their own vanity.
Other things besides the oratorical welcome had turned out
rather worse than had been expected. If every thinir had
happened according to ingenious preconceptions, the Florea-
21G KOMOLA.
tine procession of clcrc^y mid laity would not have found their
Avaychoki'tl up and been obliged to iinpivnise aeiMirse lhrou f/rdn tnaf/u/fircnzay
And the people had cried Franrki, I'Wmciaf with an en-
thusiasm proportioned to the splendor of the canopy which they
had torn to pieces as their sj)oil, according to immemorial
custom ; royal lips had duly kissed the altar.; and after all
mischances the royal person and retinue were lodged in the
Palace of the Via Larga, the vest of the nobles and gentry
were dispersed amonir the crreat houses of Florence, and the
terril)le soldiery were encamped in the Prato and other oj-en
quarters. The business of the day was ended.
])Ut the streets still presented a sur])rising aspect, sucli as
Florentines had not seen before under the November stars.
Instead of a gloom unbroken except by a lamp burning feebly
here and there before a saintly image at the street corners, or
by a stream of redder light from an open door- way, there wore
lamps suspended at the windows oi all houses, so that men
could walk along no less securely and commodiously than by
day — "/u f/ran )t)'/;/niJJ<'cnza.''''
Along tliose illuminated streets Tito IMelema was walking
at about eight o'clock in the evening on his way homeward.
Ho had been exerting himself throughout the day under the
jiri'ssure of hidden anxieties, and had at last made his escape
inmoticed from the midst of after-suj)per gayety. Once at
leisure thoroughly to face and consider his circumstances, he
hoped that he could so adjust himself to tlii-m and to all ])rob-
abilities as to get rid of his childish fear. If he had only not
been wanting in the presence of min-
piness had not been quite fultilled. The rainbow-tinted show-
er of sweets, to have been ]»erfcetly typical, shf)uld have had
some invisible seeds of bitterness mingled with them ; the
crowned Ariadne, under the snowing roses, had felt more and
more the ])resence of unexpected thorns. It was not Tito's
fault, llomola had continually assured herself. lie was still
all gentleness to her, and to her father also. But it was in
the nature of things — she saw it clearly now — it was in the
nature of things that no one but herself could go on month
after month, and year after year, fulfilling jjatiently all her fa-
ther's monotonous exacting demands. Even she, whose sym-
pathy with her father had n^ade all the passion and religion
of her young years, had not always been ]>atient,had been in-
wardly very rebellious. It was true that before their mar-
riage, and even for some time after, Tito had seemed more
unwearying than herself ; but then, of course, the effort had
the ease of novelty. We assume a load with confident readi-
ness, and up to a certain point the growing irksomeness of
pressure is tolerable ; but at last the desire for relief can no
longer be resisted. Romola said to liersclf that she had been
very foolish and ignorant in her girlish time : she was wiser
now, and would make no unfair demands on the man to whom
she had given her best woman's love and worship. The
breath of sadness that still cleaved to her lot while she saw
her father month after month sink from elation into new dis-
appointment as Tito gave him less and less of his time, and
made bland excuses for not continuing his own share of the joint
work — that sadness was no fault of Tito's, she said, but rath-
er of their inevitable destiny. If he staid less and less with
her, why, that was because they could hardly ever bo alone.
His caresses were no less tender: if she pleaded timidly on
any one evening that he should stay with her father instead
of going to another engagement which was not peremptory, he
excused himself with such charming gayety, he seemed to lin-
ger about her with such foTid jilayfiilness before he could quit
iier, that she could only feel a little heartaclie in the midst of
her love, and then go to her father and try to soften his vex-
ation and disaj)pointment, while inwardly her imagination was
EOMOLA. 221
busy trying to see how Tito could be as good as she had
thought he was, and yet find it impossible to sacrifice those
pleasures of society which were necessarily more vivid to a
bright creature like him than to the common run of men.
She herself would have liked more gayety, more admiration :
it was true, she gave it up willingly for her father's sake —
she would have given up much more than that for the sake
even of a slight wish on Tito's part. It was clear that their
natures differed widely ; but perhaps it was no more than the
inherent difference between man and woman that made her
affections more absorbing. If there were any other differ-
ence she tried to persuade herself that the inferiority was on
her side. Tito Avas really kinder than she was, better temper-
ed, less proud and resentful ; he had no angry retorts, he met
all complaints with perfect sweetness ; he only escaped as
quietly as he could from things that were unpleasant.
It belongs to every large nature, when it is not under the im-
mediate power of some strong unquestioning emotion, to sus-
pect itself, and doubt the truth of its own impressions, con-
scious of possibilities beyond its own horizon. And Romola
was urged to doubt herself the more by the necessity of inter-
preting her disappointment in her life with Tito so as to satis-
fy at once her love and her jsride. Disappointment? Yes,
tliere was no other milder word that would tell the truth.
Perhaps all women had to suffer the disappointment of igno-
rant hopes, if she only knew their experience. Still, there
had been something peculiar in her lot : her relation to her
father had claimed unusual sacrifices from her husband. Tito
had once thought that his love would make those sacrifices
easy ; his love had not been great enough for that. She was
not justified in resenting a self-delusion. No ! resentment
must not rise : all endurance seemed easy to Romola rather
than a state of mind in which she would admit to herself that
Tito acted unworthily. If she had felt a new heartache, in
the solitary hours with her father through the last months of
his life, it had been by no inexcusable fault of her husband's ;
and now — it was a hope that would make its presence felt
even in the first moments when her father's i)lace was empty
— there was no longer any importunate claim to divide her
from Tito; their young lives would flow in one current, and
their true marriage would begin.
But the sense of something like guilt towards her father, in
a hope that grew out of his death, gave all the more force to
the anxiety with which she dwelt on the means of fulfilling his
supreme wish. That piety towards his memory Avas all tho
atonement she could make now for a thought that seemed akin
Y
222 UOMOLA.
to joy at liis loss. The laborious simple life, pure from vulijar
corrupting ambitions, embittered by the frustration of the
dearest lio|»es, imj)risoned at last in total darkness — a lung
seed-time without a harvest — was at an end now, and all that
remained of it besides the tablet in Santa Croce and tlie unlin-
ished manuscript, long rambling commentary on Tito's text,
was the collection of manuscripts and anti((uities. fruit <>f li;ilf
a century's toil and fi-ugality. Tlie fullillment of her father's
life-long ambition about this library was a sacramental obliga-
tion for Komola.
The precious relic was safe from creditors, for when the
deficit towards their payment had been ascertained, Bernardo
del Nero, though he was far from being among the wealthiest
Florentines, had advanced the necessary sum of about a thou-
sand florins — a large sum in those days — accepting a lieu on
the collection as a security.
"The State will repay me," he had said to Romola, making
liglit of the service which had really cost him some inconve-
nience. '• If the cardinal linds a building, as he seems to say he
CD J »
will, our Signoria may consent to do the rest. I have no chil-
dren, I can afford the risk."
But witliin the last ten days all hopes in the Medici had
come to an end : and the famous ]Medicean collections in the
Via Larga were themselves iji danger of dispersion. P'rench
agents had already begun to sec that such very fine antique
gems as Lorenzo had collected belonged by right to the first
nation in Europe; and the Florentine State, which had got
possession of the ^fedicean library, was likely to be glad of a
custotner for it. With a war to recover Pisa hanging over it,
and with the certainty of having to ]>ay large subsidies to the
French king, the State was likely to prefer money to manu-
scripts.
To Ilomola these gi"ave political changes had gathered their
chief interest from their bearing on the fulfillment of her fa-
ther's wish. She had been biought up in learned seclusion
from the interests of actual life, and had been ascustomed to
think of heroic deeds and great ])rinci]>les as something anti-
thetic to the vulgar present, of the I'nyx and the Forum as
something more wortliy of attention than the councils of living
Florentine men. Anromptings tiiat seemed to isolate her from
him. Koniola was laboring, as every loving woman must, to
subdue her nature to her husband's. The great need of her
ROMOLA. 225
heart compelled her to strangle, with desperate resolution,
every rising impulse of suspicion, pride, and resentment; she
felt equal to any self-infliction that would save her from ceas-
incr to love. That would have been like the hideous nisjht-
mare in which tlie world had seemed to break away all round
her, and leave her feet overhanging the darkness. Romola
had never distinctly imagined sucli a future for herself; she
was only beginning to feel the presence of effort iu that cling-
ing trust which had once been mere repose.
She waited and listened long, for Tito had not come
straight home after leaving Niccolo Caparra, and it Avas more
than two hours after the time when he was crossing the Ponte
Rubaconte that Romola heard the great door of the court
turning on its hinges, and hastened to the head of the stone
steps. There was a lamp hanging over the stairs, and they
could see each other distinctly as he ascended. The eighteen
months had produced a more definable change in Romola's
face than in Tito's : the expression was more subdued, less
cold, and more beseeching, and, as the pink flush overspread
her face now, in her joy that the long waiting was at an end,
she was much lovelier than on tlie day when Tito had first
seen her. On that day any on-looker would have said that
Romola's nature was made to command, and Tito's to bend ;
yet now Romola's mouth was quivering a little, and there was
some timidity in her glance.
He made an effort to smile, as she said,
" My Tito, you are tired ; it has been a fatiguing day : is it
not true ?"
Maso was there, and no more was said until they had
crossed the antechamber and closed the door of the library
behind them. The wood was burning brightly on the great
dogs ; that was one welcome for Tito, late as he Avas, and
Romola's gentle voice was another.
He just turned and kissed her, when she took off his man-
tle, then went towards a high-backed chair placed for him near
the fire, threw himself into it, and flung away his cap, saying,
not peevishly, but in a fatigued tone of remonstrance, as he
gave a slight sh«dder,
" Romola, I wish you would give up sitting in this library.
Surely our own rooms are pleasanter iu this chill weather."
Romola felt hurt. She had never seen Tito so indifferent
in his manner ; he was usually full of lively solicitous atten-
tion. And she had thought so much of his return to her af-
ter the long day's absence ! He must be very weary.
" I wonder you have forgotten, Tito," she answered, look-
ing at him anxiously, as if she wanted to read an exci'se for
in*
226 KOMOLA.
him in the signs of bodily fatigue. " You know I am making
the catalogue on the new phui that my failicr wished for; you
Lave Ui){ time tu help me, su T must work at it closely."
Tito, instead of meeting liomula's glance, closed his eyes
and rubbed his hands over his face and hair, lie felt he was
behaving unlike himself, but he would make amends to-mor-
row. The terrible resurrection of secret fears, which, if Itom-
ola had known them, would have alienated her from him
forever, caused liim to feel an alienation already begun bo-
tw4>H them — caused him to feel a certain repulsion towards a
woman from whose mind he was in danger. The feeling had
taken hold of him unawares, and he was vexed with himself
for behaving in this new cold way to her. He could not sud-
denly command any affectionate looks or words; he could
only exeit himself to say what might serve as an excuse.
"I am not well, Komola; you must be not surprised if I
am peevish."
•' Ah, you have had so much to tire you to-day," said Ro-
raola, kneeling down close to him, and laying her arm on his
chest while she put his hair back caressingly.
Suddenly she drew her arm away with a start and a gaze
of alarmed inquiry.
" What have you got on under your tunic, Tito? Some-
thing as hard as iron."
"It is iron — it is chain armor," he said at once. lie was
prepared for the surprise and the (piestion, and he spoke
quietly, as of something that lie was not hurried to explain.
"There was sonu- unexpected danger to-day, then V" said
Romola, in a tone of conjecture. " You had it lent to you for
the procession ?"
" No ; it is my own. I shall be obliged to wear it con-
stantly for some time."
"What is it that threatens you, my Tito?" said Romola,
looking terrified, and clinging to him again.
" Every one is threatened in these times who is not a rabid
enemy of the Medici. Don't look distressed, my Romola;
this armor will make mo safe against covert attacks."
Tito j)nt his hand on her neck and smiled.^ This little dia-
logue about the armor had broken through the new crust, and
made a channel for the old sweet habit oi kindness.
'■ But my godfather, then," said Romola; " is not he, too,
in danger? And he takes no ])recautions — ought he not?
since he must surely be in more danger than you, who have
so little influence compared with him."
"It is just because I am les« important that I am in more
danger," said Tito, readily. "I am suspected constantly of
ROMOLA. 227
being an envoy. And men like Messer Bernardo are protected
by their position and their extended family connections, which
spread among all parties, Avhile I am a Greek that nobody
would avenge."
" But, Tito, is it a fear of some particular person, or only a
vague sense of danger that has made you think of wearing
this r" Roraola was unable to repel the idea of a degrading
fear in Tito which mingled itself with her anxiety.
" I have had special threats," said Tito ; " but I must beg
you to be silent on the subject, my Romola. I shall consider
that you have broken my confidence if you mention it to your
godfather."
" Assuredly I will not mention it," said Romola, flushing,
" if you wish it to be a secret. But, dearest Tito," she added,
after a moment's pause, in a tone of loving anxiety, " it will
make you very wretched."
"What will make me wretched?" he said, with a scarcely
perceptible movement across his face, as from some darting
sensation.
"This feai' — this heavy armor. I can't help shuddering as
I feel it under my arm. I could fancy it a story of enchant-
ment — that some malignant fiend had changed your sensitive
Imman skin into a hard shell. It seems so unlike my bright,
liglit-hearted Tito !"
" Then you would rather have your husband exposed to
danger when he leaves you ?" said Tito, smiling. " If you
don't mind my being poniarded or shot, why need I mind ?
I will give up the armor ; shall I '?"
" No, Tito, no. I am fanciful. Do not heed what I have
said. But such crimes are surely not common in Florence ?
I have always heard my father and godfather say so. Have
they become frequent lately ?"
" It is not unlikely they will become frequent, with the bit-
ter hatreds that are being bred continually."
Romola was silent a few moments. She shrank from in-
sisting further on the subject of the armor. She tried to
shake it off.
" Tell me what has happened to-day," she said, in a cheer-
ful tone. " Has all gone off well ?"
" Excellently well. First of all, the rain came and put an
end to Luca Corsini's oration, Avhich nobody wanted to hear,
and a ready-tongued personage — some say it was Gaddi, some
say it was Melema, but really it was done so quickly no one
knows who it was — had the honor of giving the Cristianissimo
the briefest possible Avelcome in bad French."
" Tito, it was you, I know," said Romola, smiling brightly,
228 ROMOLA.
ami kissiiiGj liim. *'■ IIow is it you never care about claiming
any lliiiig V And after that?"
'' Oh r after that there was a show of armor, and jewels,
and tr:i]i|)inLCS, sucli as you saw at thi' last Flon-ntine i/iostra,
only a great deal more of them. There \vas stiuttin'' and
prancing, and confusion, and scrambling, and the people shout-
ed, ani)ing into the house, said,
" I know you like these things when you can have thera
without trouble. Confess you do."
" Yes, when they come to me as easily as the light does,"
said Piero, folding his arms and looking down at the sweet-
meats as Komola uncovered them and glanced at him archly.
*' And they are come along with the light now," he added,
lifting his eyes to her face and hair with a painter's admira-
tion, as her hood, dragged by the weight of her veil, fell back
sward.
" J>ut I know what the sweetmeats are for," he went on ;
" they are to stoj) my mouth while you scold n)C. Well, go
on into the next room and you will see I've done something to
the ]iicttn-e since you saw it, though it's not Hnished yet. But
I didn't promise, you know : 1 take care not to promise *
" ' Chi promette e non mnntiene.
L'anima sua non va mai bene.' "
ROMOLA. 231
The door opening on the wild garden Avas closed now, and
the painter was at work. Not at Romola's picture, however.
That was standing on the floor, propped against the wall, and
Piero stooped to lift it, that he might carry it into the proper
light. But in lifting away this picture he had disclosed an-
other — the oil-sketch of Tito, to which he had made an im-
portant addition within the last few days. It was so much
smaller than the other picture that it stood far within it, and
Piero, apt to forget where he had placed any thing, was not
aware of what he had revealed as, peering at some detail in the
painting which he held in his hands, he went to place it on an
easel. But Romola exclaimed, flushing with astonishment,
" That is Tito !"
Piero looked round, and gave a silent shrug. He was vexed
at his owu forgetfulness.
She was still looking at the sketch in astonishment ; but
pi-esently she turned towards the painter and said, with puzzled
alarm,
'•■ What a strange picture ! When did you paint it ? What
does it mean ?"
" A mere fancy of mine," said Piero, lifting off his skull-
cap, scratching his head, and making the usual grimace by
which he avoided the betrayal of any feeling. " I wanted a
handsome young face for it, and your husband's was just the
thing."
He went forward, stooped down to the picture, and, lifting
it aAvay Avith its back to Romola, pretended to be giving it a
passing examination before putting it aside as a thing not good
enough to show.
But Romola, who had the fact of the armor in her mind,
and was penetrated by this strange coincidence of things which
associated Tito with the idea of fear, went to his elbow and
said,
" Don't put it away ; let me look again. That man with
the rope round his neck — I saw him — I saw yoix come to him
in the Duomo. What was it that made you put him into a
picture with Tito ?"
Piero saw no better resource than to tell part of the truth.
" It was a mere accident. The man was running away —
running up the steps, and caught hold of your husband : I sup-
pose he had stumbled. I happened to be there and saw it, and
I thought the savage-looking old fellow was a good subject.
But it's worth nothing — it's only a freakish daub of mine,"
Piero ended, contemptuously, moving the sketch away with an
air of decision, and putting it on a high shelf. " Come and
look at the CEdipus."
232 ROMOL.V.
lie had shown a little too much anxiety in pnttinc^ the
skt'tcli out (A licr sight, and li.id inothicfd iht,- wry iniprt'ssiou
1k' liad sought to prevent — that there was really something
uiiplrasaiit, sonu'thiiig disadvantageous to Tito, in the circuni-
stances out of which the jticture arose. But this impression
silenced iier : her ])ride and delicacy shrank from (piestioning
further, where questions might seem to imply that she could
entertain even a slight suspicion against her husband. She
meri'ly said, in as (piiet a tone as she could,
"He was a strange, pitcousdooking man, that prisoner.
Do you know any thing more of him?"
"No more: 1 showed him the way to the hospital, that's
all. See, now, the face of (Edi])us is pretty nearly iinished ;
tell me what you think of it."
Komola now gave her whole attention to her father's por-
trait, standing in long silence before it.
" Ah !" she said at last, " you have done wh.it I wanted.
You liavc given it more of the listejiing look. My good Pie-
TO " — she turned towards him with bright moist eyes — "I am
very grateful to you."
" Xow that's what I can't bear in you women," said Piero,
turning im])atiently, and kicking aside the objects that littered
the floor — " you are always j)ouring out feelintrs where there's
no call for them. Why should you be grateful to me for a
picture you pay me for, especially when I make you wait for
it? And if I paint a ])icture, I suppose it's for my own
pleasure and credit to paint it well, eh ? Are you to thank a
man for not being a rogue or ;i noodle? It's enough if he
himself thanks Messer Doineiieddio, who has made liim nei-
ther the one nor the other. Jjut women think walls are held
together M'ith honey,"
" You criisty Piero ! I forgot how snapjnsh you are. Here,
put this nice sweetmeat in your mouth,"" said liomola, smiling
through her tears, and taking something very erisj) and sweet
from the little basket.
Piero accepted it very much as that proverl)ial bear that
Jreains of ])e:irs might accept an exceedingly mellow '* swan*
ii^^'j;^^ — really liking the gift, but accustomed to have his pleas-
ires and pains concealed under a shaggy coat.
" It's good, ISIailonna ^Vntigone," said Piero, putting his fin-
gers in the basket for another. He had eaten nothing but
haril eggs for a fortnight. Homola stood opposite him, feel-
ing her new anxiety suspeiuled for a little wliile by the sight
of this nahe eni/^/.7;(0//e to-morrow."
" You are something too lliiii)ant about the Frate, Frances-
co," said rieto Cennini, the scholarly. " We arc all indebted
to him in these weeks for |trcachinut young ]\Iesser Kiccolo was saying
here the other morning — and, doubtless, Francesco ineans the
same thing — there is as wonderful a power of stretching in the
meaning of visions as in Dido's bull's hide. A dream may
mean whatever comes after, mi pare. As our Franco Sac-
chetti says, a woman dreams over-night of a serpent biting her,
breaks a* drinking-cup the next day, and cries out, ' Look you,
I thought something would haj>pcn — it's plain now what the
Bcrpent meant.' "
" But the Frate's visions are not of that sort," said Cronaca.
" lie not only says what will hapjK-n — that the Church will be
scourged and renovated, and the heathens converted — he says
it shall ha])i)en quiekly. I le is no sli}»pery pretender who pro-
vides loo])holes for himself, he is — "
"What is Ihis? what is this?" exclaimed Nello, jumping
off the desco, and ])utting his head out at the door. ''Here are
people streaming into the piazza, and shouting. Something
must have hapi)ened in the Via Larga. Aha !" he burs! forth
with delighted astonishnieiit, stepjiing out, laughing, and wav-
ing his cap.
All the rest of the company hastened to the door. News
from the Via Larga was just what they had been waiting for.
lint if the news had come into the piazza, they were not a lit-
tle surprised at the form of its advent. Carried above the
shoulders of the jieople, on a bench apparently snatched up in
the street, sat Tito Meleina, in smiling amuscmi'ut at the com-
pulsion he was under. His caj) had slipped off his head, and
Inmg by the becchetto which was wound loosely round his
EOMOLA. 237
neck ; and as he saw the group at Nello's door he lifted up
his fingers in beckoning recognition. The next minute ho
had leaped from the bench on to a cart filled with bales that
stood in the broad space between the Baptistery and the steps
of the Duomo, Avhile the people swarmed round him with the
noisy eagerness of poultry expecting to be fed. But there
was silence when he began to speak in his clear mellow
voice —
" Citizens of Florence ! I have no Avarrant to tell the news
except your will. But the news is good, and will harm no
man in the telling. The Most Christian King is signing a
treaty that is honorable to Florence. But you owe it to one
of your citizens, who spoke a word worthy of the ancient Ro-
mans — you owe it to Piero Capponi !"
Immediately tliere was a roar of voices.
" Capponi ! Capponi ! What said our Piero ?" " Ah ! he
wouldn't stand being sent from Herod to Pilate !" " We knew
Piero !" " Orsii ! Tell us what did he say ?"
When the roar of insistence had subsided a little, Tito be-
gan again :
" The Most Christian King demanded a little too much-
was obstinate — said at last, ' I shall order my trumpets to
sound.' Then, Florentine citizens ! your Piero Capponi, speak-
ing with the voice of a free city, said ; ' If you sound your
trumpets, we will ring our bells !' He snatched the copy of
the dishonoring conditions from the hands of the secretaiy,
tore it in pieces, and turned to leave the royal presence."
Again there were loud shouts — and again impatient de-
mands for more.
"Then, Florentines, the high majesty of France felt, per-
haps for the first time, all the majesty of a free city. And
the Most Christian King himself hastened from his place to
call Piero Capponi back. The great spirit of your Florentine
city did its work by a great word, without need of the great
actions that lay ready behind it. And the King has consent-
ed to sign the treaty, which preserves the honor, as well as
the safety, of Florence. The banner of France will float over
every Florentine galley in sign of amity and common privi-
'lege, but above tliat banner will be written the word ' Liberty !'
" " That is all the ncAvs I have to tell ; is it not enough ? —
since it is for the glory of every one of you, citizens of Flor-
ence, that you have a fellow-citizen who knows how to speak
your will."
As the shouts rose again, Tito looked round with inward
amusement at the various crowd, each of whom was elated
with the notion that Piero Capponi had somehow represented
238 HOMOLA.
him — that he was the iniiul of winch Capj^orii was tlie mouth-
piece. He enjoyed the humor of the iticideiit, w hicli liad sud-
d'M\]y transformed him, an alien and a friend of the ^lediei,
Into an orator who tickli-d the ears of tiie jtecple l)lataut for
some unknown good wliit-h they calletl liberty. Jle felt quite
glad that lie had been laid liold of ami hurried along by the
crowti as he was coming out of the ])alace in the Via Larga
with a commission to the Signoria. It was very easy, very
pleasant, this exercise of sj)eaking to the general satisfaction':
a man who knew how to persuade need never be in danger
from any ])arty; he could convince each that he was feigning
with all the others. The gestures and faces of weavers and
dyers were certainly amusing when looked at from above in
this way. Tito was beginning to get easier in his armor, and
at this moment was quite unconscious of it. Jle stood with
one hand holding his recovered cap, and with the other at his
belt, the light of a complacent smile in his long lustrous eyes,
as he made a parting reverence to his audience, before s]>ring-
ing down from the bales — when suddeiilv his glance met that
of a man who had not at all the amusing aspect of the exult-
ing w'eavers, dyers, and wool-carders. The face of this man
was clean shaven. Ins hair close-clip])ed, and he wore a decent
felt hat. A single glance would hardly have sutliced to assure
any one but Tito that this was the face of the escaped prison-
er who had laid hold of him on the steps. Fmt to Tito it
came not sim))ly as the face of the escaped prisoner, but as a
face with which he had been familiar long, long years before.
It seemed all compressed into a second — the sight of Bal-
dassarre looking at him, the sensation shooting through him
like a liery ari-ow, and the act of leaping from the cart. He
would have leaped down in the same instant, whetlier he hant though ])oor citizen. Cer-
tainly, there was a great change in his face ; but how could it
.'•e otherwise? And yet, if he were perfectly sane — in posses-
P't)?! of all his jiowers and all his learning — why was lie lin-
gering in this way Itefoie making known his identity? It
7i-ust be for the sake of making his scheme of vengeance more
comjilete. But he did linfjer : that at least gav3 an oj)portU'
KOMOLA. 239
nity for flight. And Tito began to think that flight was his
only resource.
But while he, with his back turned on the Piazza del Duomo,
had lost the recollection of the new part he had been playing,
and was no longer thinking of the many things which a ready
brain and tongue made easy, but of a few things which destiny
had somehow made very difficult, the enthusiasm which he had
fed contemptuously was creating a scene in that piazza in
grand contrast with tue inward drama of self-centred fear
which he had carried away from it.
The crowd, on Tito's disappearance, had begun to turn their
faces towards the outlets of the piazza in the direction of the
Via Larga, when the sight of Mazzleri, or mace-bearers, enter-
ing from the Via de' Martelli, announced the approach of dig-
nitaries. They must be the syndics, or commissioners, charged
with the effecting of the treaty ; the treaty must be already
signed, and they had come away from the royal presence.
Piero Cap])oni was coming — the brave heart that had known
how to speak for Florence. The effect on the crowd Avas re-
markable ; they parted with softening, dropping voices, sub-
siding into silence — and the silence became so perfect that the
tread of the syndics on the broad pavement, and the rustle of
their black silk garments, could be heard, like rain in the night.
There were four of them ; but it was not the two learned
doctors of law, Messer Guidantonio Vespucci and Messer
Domenico Bonsi, that the crowd Avaited for ; it was not
Francesco Valori, popular as he had become in these late
days. The moment belonged to another man, of firm presence,
as little inclined to humor the people as to humor any other
unreasonable claimants — loving order, like one who by force
of fortune had been made a mercliant, and by foi-ce of nature
had become a soldier. It was not till he was seen at the en-
trance of the piazza that the silence was broken, and then one
loud shout of " Capponi, Capponi ! Well done, Capponi !"
rang through the piazza.
The simple, resolute man looked round him with grave joy
His fellow-citizens gave him a great funeral two years later,
when he had died in fight : there were torches carried by all
the magisti'acy, and torches again, and trains of banners. Bui
it is not known that he felt any joy in the oration that was dc
livered in his praise, as the banners waved over his bier. Le^
U8 be glad that he got some thanks and pra^'se while he lived.
240 ItOMOLA.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE AVENGEU'S SECRET.
It was the first time that Bahlassarre had been in the piazza
del Duoino since his escape. He had a strong desire to liear
the ri'niarkabh.' monk jireach again, but he liad shrunk from
reappearing in tlie same spot wiiere he had been seen half
naked, with neglected hair, with a rope round his neck — in the
same s|>ot where he had been called a madman. The feeling,
in its freshness, was too strong to be overcome by any trust
he had in tlie change he had made in his appearance ; for
when the worils " some madman, surely," had fallen from
Tito's lips, it was not their baseness and cruelty only that had
made their viper-sting — it was Jialdassarre's instantaneous
bitter consciousness that he might be unable to prove tho
Avords false. Along with the j)assionate desire for vengeance
that possessed him, had arisen the keen sense that his power
of achievinir the veni;eance was doubtful. It was as if Tito
liad been helped by some diabolical prompter, who had whis-
pered ])aldassarre\s saddest secret in the traitor's ear. He
was not mad; for he carried within him that ))iteous stamp of
sanity — the clear consciousness of shattered faculties: he
measured his own feebleness. With the first movements of
vinle — or like that of an insect whose
little fragment of earth has given way, and made it pause in
a palsy of distrust. It was this distrust, this di'termination to
take no step which miglit betray any thing concei iiiug himself,
that had made JJaldassarre reject I'iero di Cosimo's frienrisoner by the French on his way from Genoa.
Tint his age, and the indications in his speech and manner that
Ihe was of a diffen-nt class from the ordinary meiulicants and
j)Oor travellers who were entertained in the hospital, had in-
duced the monks to offer him extra charity — a coarse woollen
tunic to ))r()tect him from the cold, a pair of peasant's shoes,
and a few (A///'//-/, smallest f)f Florentine coins, to help him on
his way. He had gone on the road to Arezzo early in the
morning; but he had paused at the first little town, and had
used a couple of his da/iari to get himself shaved and to haTO
BOMOLA. 241
his circle of hair clipped short, in his former fashion. The
barber there had a little haud-mirror of bright steel : it was a
long while, it was years, since Baldassarre had looked at him-
self ; and now, as his eyes fell on that hand-mirror, a new
thouofht shot through his mind. " Was he so changed that
Tito really did not know him ?" The thought was such 2
sudden arrest of impetuous currents that it was a painful
shock to him : his hand shook like a leaf as he put away the
barber's arm and asked for the mirror. He wished to see
himself before he was shaved. The barber, noticing his trem-
ulousness,held the mirror for him. \
No ; he was not so changed as that. He himself had known
the wrinkles as they had been three years ago ; they were
only deeper now : there was the same rough, clumsy skin, mak-
ing little superficial bosses on the brow, like so many cipher
marks; the skin was only yellower, only looked more like a
lifeless rind. That shaggy white beard — it was no disguise
to eyes that had looked closely at him for sixteen years — to
eyes that ought to have searched for him with the expectation
of finding him changed, as men search for the beloved among
the bodies cast up by the waters. There was something differ-
ent in his glance, but it was a difference that should only have
made the recognition of him the more startling ; for is not a
known voice all the more thrilling when it is heard as a cry ?
But the doubt was folly: he had felt that Tito knew him.
He put out his hand and pushed the mirror away. The strong
currents w ere rushing on again, and the energies of hatred
and vengeun(;e were active once more.
He went back on the way towards Florence again, but he
did not vish to enter the city till dusk ; so he turned aside
from the high-road, and sat down by a little pool shadowed on
one side by alder-bushes still sprinkled with yellow leaves. It
was a calm November day, and he no sooner saw the pool than
he thought its still surface might be a mirror for him. He
wanted to contemplate himself slowly, as he had not dared to
do in the presence of the barber. lie sat down on the edge
of the pool, and bent forward to look earnestly at the image
of himself.
Was there something wandering and imbecile in his face —
something like what he felt in his mind ?
Not now ; not when he was examining himself with a look
of eager inquiry : on the contrary, there was an intense pur-
pose in his eyes. But at other times ? Yes, it must be so :
in the long hours when he had the vague achinir of an unre-
membered past within him — when he seemed to sit in dark
loneliness, visited by whispers which died out mockingly as h©
n
242 UOMOL.V,
strainod liis oar nftor them, ami by forms that sccmcil to njv
])rc)acli him and Hoat away as lie llirust out his haiul to grasp
tliem — in those hours, doubtless, there must be coiitinual frus-
tration and amazement in his glance. ^Vnd, more horrible
.still, when the thiek cloud parted for a moment, and, as he
sprang forward with liope, rolled together again and left him
helpless as before, doubtless then there was a blank con-
fusion in Ins face, as of a man suddenly smitten with blind-
ness.
Could he prove any thing? Could lie even begin to allege
any thing with the confidence that the links of thought would
not break away? Would any believe that he had ever had a
mind filled witli rare knowledge, bu.sy with close thoughts,
ready with various speech? It had all sli})ped away from him
'—that lab(»ri(Misly-gathereut now a
thirst had come like that which makes men open their own
veins to satisfy it, and the thought of tlie possible amulet no
sooner crosseso
far-off waters; it was an engraved sapi)hire, which must be
Avorth some gold ducats. Ualdassarre no sooner saw those
possible ducats than he saw some of them exchanged for a
poniard, lie did not want to use the poniard yet, but he long-
ed to possess it. If he could grasp its handle and feel its edge,
that blank in his mind— that past which fell away continually
— would not make him feel so cruelly helpless : tlie sharp steel
that desi)ised talents and ehuled strength would be at his side,
as the unfailing friend of feeble jlistice. There was a spark-
ling triumj)h under Daldassarre's black eyel)rows as he re-
placed the little sapphire inside the bits oi i)arcliment and
wound the string tightly round them.
It was nearly (bisk now, and lie rose to walk back towards
Florence. With his (Jtntarl to buy him some bread, he felt
rich : he could lie out in the open air, as he found plenty more
doing in all corners of Florence. And in the next iv'w days
he had sold his sa)»i)hire, had added to liis clothing, had bought
a bright dagger, and had still a pair of gold llorins left, jlut
he meant to hoard that treasure carefully : his lodging w.\j an
out-house with a heap of straw in it, in a thinly inhabited part
of Oltrarno, and he thought of looking about for Avork as a
porter.
lie had Imught his dagger at Bratti's. Paying Iiis medi-
tated visit, thci-e one evening at dusk, he had found that singu-
lar rag-merchant just returned from one of his rounds, emi»ty-
ing out his basketful of broken glass and old iron among his
•handsoni'^ show of heterogeneous second-hand goods. As Kal-
dassarre entiMcd the shop, and looketl towards the smart jiieces
of a|)par"l, the musical instiuinents, and weapons that were iVxSf
played :;i the broadest light of the window, bis eye at one*
ROM OLA. 247
singled out a dagger that hung up high against a red scarf.
By buying that dagger lie could not only satisfy a strong de-
sire, he could open his original errand in a more indirect man-
ner than bv speaking of the onyx ring. In the course of bar-
gaining for the weapon, he let drop, with cautious carelessness,
tliat he came from Genoa, and had been directed to Bratti's
shop by an acquaintance in that city who had bought a very
valuable ring there. Had the respectable trader any more
such rings?
Whei-eupon Bratti had much to say as to the unlikelihood
of such ring-s being within reach of many people, with much
vaunting of liis own rare connections, due to his known wis-
ciom and honesty. It might be true that he was a peddler ; he
chose to be a peddler, though he Avas rich enough to kick his
heels in his shop all day. But those who thought they had
said all there was to be ^aid about Bratti when they had call-
ed him a peddler were a good deal farther off the truth than
the other side of Pisa. How was it that he could put that
ring in a stranger's way ? It was because he had a very par-
ticular knowledge of a handsome young signor, who did not
look quite so fine a feathered bird when Bratti first set eyes
on liim as he did at the present time. And by a question or
two Baldassarre extracted without any trouble such a rough
and rambling account of Tito's life as the peddler could give
since the time when he had found him sleeping under the Log-
gia de' Cerchi. It never occurred to Bratti that the decent
man (who was rather deaf apparently, asking him to say many-
things twice over) had any curiosity about Tito ; the curi-
osity was doubtless about himself, as a truly remarkable ped-
dler.
And Baldassarre left Bratti's shop, not only with the dag-
ger at his side, but with a general knowledge of Tito's con-
duct and position — of his early snle of the jewels, his imme-
diate quiet settlement of himself at Florence, his marriage,
and his great prosperity.
" What story had he told about his previous life — about
his father?"
That was a question to which it would be difficult for Bal-
dassarre to discover the answer. Meanwhile he wanted to learn
all he couUi about Florence. But he found, to his acute dis-
tress, that of the new details he learned he could only retain a
few, and those only by continual repetition ; and he began to
be afraid of listening to any new discourse lest it should oblit-
erate wliat he was already striving to remember.
The day he was discerned by Tito in the Piazza del Duo-
mo he had the fresh Qn^uish of this consciousness in his mind.
248 i:o.Mt)LA.
imd Tito's ready sj)Cocli fell ui»oii him like tlie mockery of a
glib, defying demon.
As he went liome to liis heap of straw, and passed by the
booksellers' shops in the Via del Oarbo, he jiaused to look at
the vohimes spread o|)e!i. Could he by long gazing at one of
those books lay liold of the slippery threads of memory?
Could he by striving get a iivm grasp somewhere, and lift
himself above these waters that flowed over him?
lie was tempted, and bought the cheapest (Jreck book he
could see. lie carried it home and sat on his licap of straw,
looking at the characters by the liglit of the small win(b)W ;
but no inward liijcht arose on them. Soon the evening dark-
ness came, but it made little difference to ]>aldassarrc. His
strained eyes seemed still to sec the white pages with the uu-
iutelligible black marks upon them.
CHAPTER XXXI.
FRUIT IS SEED.
" My Romola," said Tito the second morning after he had
made liis speech in the Piazza del Duomo, " I am to receive
grand visitors to-day ; the ]\Iilanese Count is coming again,
and tlie Seneschal de IJeaucaire, the great favorite of the Cris-
tianissimo. I know you don't care to go through smiling cere-
monies with these rustling magnates, Avhom we are not likely
to sec again ; and as they will want to look at the antiut presently, coming back in her liood and mantle,
she said, " Oh, what a long breath Florence will take wlien the
gates are flung open and the last Frenchman is walking out
of them! Even you are getting tired, with all your patience,
my Tito; confess it. Ah, your heaut he felt now as unable to
raise his head as if her hand had been a leaden cowl. Ho
spoke instead, in a light tone, as his pen still ran along:
" The French are as ready to go from Florence as the wasps
to leave a ripe pear when they have just fastened on it."
EOMOLA. 249
Romola, keenly sensitive to the absence of the usual re<
spouse, took away hey hand and said, " I am going, Tito."
" Farewell, my sweet one. I must Avait at home. Take
INIaso with you."
Still Tito did not look up, and Romola went out Avithout
sayino- any more. Very slight things make epochs in married
life, and this morning, for the first time, she admitted to her-
self not only that Tito had changed, but that he had changed
towards her. Did the reason lie in herself ? She might per-
haps have thought so if there had not been the facts of the ar-
mor and the picture to suggest some external event which was
an entire mystery to her.
But Tito no "sooner believed that Romola was out of the
house than he laid down his pen and looked up, in delightful
security from seeing any thing else than parchment and broken
marble. He was rather disrjusted with himself that he had not
been able to look up at Romola and behave to her just as usual.
He Avould have chosen, if he could, to be even more than usu-
ally kind ; but he could not, on a sudden, master an involun-
tary shrinking from her, Avhich, by a subtle relation, depended
on those very characteristics in him that made him desire not
to fail in his marks of affection. He was about to take a step
which he knew would arouse her deep indignation. He would
have to encounter much that was unpleasant before he could
win her foro-iveness. And Tito could never find it easy to face
displeasure and anger ; his natui'e was one of those most re-
mote from defiance or impudence, and all his inclinations lean^
ed towards preserving Romola's tenderness. He was not tor-
mented by sentimental scruples which, as he had demonstrated
to himself by a very rapid course of argument, had no relation
to solid utility ; but his freedom from scruples did not release
him from the dread of Avhat was disagreeble. Unscrupulous-
ness gets rid of much, but not of toothache, or wounded vanity,
or the sense of loneliness, against which, as the world at pres-
ent stands, there is no security but a thoroughly healthy jaw,
and a just, loving soul. And Tito Avas feeling intensely at this
moment that no devices could save him from pain in the im-
pending collision Avith Romola; no persuasive blandness could
cushion him against the shock towards Avhich he Avas being
driven like a timid animal urged to a desperate leap by the
terror of the tooth and the claw that are close behind it.
The secret feeling he had previoiisly had that the tenacious
adherence to Bardo's Avishes about the library had become un-
der existing difticulties a piece of sentimental folly, Avhich de-
prived himself and Romola of substantial advantages, might
perhaps never have Avrought itself into action but for the events
1 1 *
250 UOMOI.A.
of the past wpok, wliirh lia 1 broui^lit at onco the pressure of q
new motive ami the outlet of u rare ojtportunity. Nay, it wau
not till his dreatl liad been aggravated by the siglit of Haldas-
sarre li)oking more like his sane self, not until lie had begun
to feel that he might be compelled to tiee from Florence, lluit
he ha(i brouglit himself to resolve on using his legal right to
sell the library before the great opportunity offered by French
and Milanese bidders slipped through his lingers. l''or if he
had to leave Floivnee he did not want to leave it as a destitute
wanderer. He had been used to an agreeable existence, and
he wished to carry with him all the means at hand for retain-
ing the same agreeable conditions. He wished among other
things to carry liomola with him, and not, if possible, to carry
any infamy. Success had given him a growing aj)petite for
all the ])leasures that depend on an advantageous social ])0si-
tion,and at no moment coulil it look like a temi)tation to him,
but only like a hideous alternative, to decamp under dishonor,
even with a bag of diamonds, and incur the life of an ndven-
turer. It was not possible for him to make himself independent
even of those Florentines who only greeted him with regard;
still less was it possible for him to make himself independ-
ent of Romola. She was the wife of his first love — he loved
her still ; she belonged to "that furniture of life which he shrank
from parting with. He winced under her judgment, he felt
utu-ertain how far the revulsion of lier feeling towards liim
might go ; and all that sense of jiower over a wife which
makes a husband risk betrayals that a lover never ventures on,
would not suffice to counteract Tito's uneasiness. This was.
the leailen weight which had been too strong for his will, and
kept him from raising his head to meet her eyes. Their pure
light brought too near him the prospect of a coming struggle.
But it was not to be helped : if they had to leave Florence they
must have money ; indeed, Tito could not arrange life at all to
his mind without a considerable sum of money. And that
problem o£ arranging life to his mind had been the source of
all his mis(lf)ing. He would have been equal to any sacrifice
that was not un})leasant.
The rustling magnates came and went, the bargains liad
been concluded, and IJomola returned home; but nothing
grave was said that night. Tito was only gay and chatty,
j)ouring forth to lier, as lie liad not done before, stories anut I partly foresaw your o])position, and as-
a prom])t dec;ision was necessary, I avoided that obstacle, and
decitled without consulting you. The very care of a husband
for liis wife's interest comjiels him to that separate action
sometimes — even when he has such a wife as you, my llomola."
She turned her eyes on him in breatldess iniit he was
not angry ; he only felt that the moment was eminently un-
pleasant, "and th;rt when this scene was at an end he should be
glad to keep away from Komola for a little while, lint it
was absolutely necessary first that she should be redufK^d to
passiveness.
ROilOLA, 259
" Try to calm yourself a little, RomoLa," he said, leaning in
the easiest attitude possible against a pedestal under the bust
of a grim old Roman. Not that he was inwardly easy :
his heart palpitated a little with a moral dread, against which
no chain-armor could be found. He had locked in his wife's
anger and scorn, but he had been obliged to lock himself in
with it : and his blood did not rise with contest — his olive
choek was jierceptibly paled.
Romola had paused and turned her eyes on him as she saw
him take his stand and lodge the key in his scarsella. Her
eyes were Hashing, and her whole frame seemed to be possess-
ed by impetuous force that wanted to leap out in some deed.
All the crushing pain of disappointment in her husband, which
had made the strongest part of her consciousness a few min-
utes before, was annihilated by the vehemence of her indigna-
tion. She could not care in this moment that the man she was
despising as he leaned there in his loathsome beauty — she
could not care that he was her liusband ; she could only feel
that she despised him. The pride and fierceness of the old Bar-
di blood had been thoroughly a\\'aked in her for the first time.
"Try at least to understand the fact," said Tito, "and do
not seek to take futile steps which may be fatal. It is of no
iise for you to go to your godfather. Mcsser Beiuiardo can
not reverse what I have done. Only sit down. You would
hardly wish, if you were quite yourself, to make known to any
thii-d person what passes between us in private."
Tito knew that he had touched the right fibre there. But
she did not sit down ; she Avas too unconscious of her body
voluntarily to change her attitude.
" Why can it not be reversed ?" she said, after a pause.
" Nothing is moved yet."
" Simply because the sale has been concluded by written
agreement ; the purchasers have left P'lorence, and I hold the
bonds for the purchase-money."
" If my father had suspected you of being a faithless man,"
said Romola, in a tone of bitter scorn, which insisted on dart-
ing out before she could say any thing else, " he would have
placed the library safely out of your power. But death over-
took him too soon, and when you were sure his ear was deaf,
and his hand stiff, you robbed him." She paused an instant,
and then said, with gathered passion, " Have you robbed some-
body else, wlio is not dead? Is that the reason you wear
armor ?"
Romola had been driven to litter the words as men are driv-
en to use the lash of the horsewhip. At first Tito felt horri-
bly cowed ; it seemed to him that the disgrace he had been
2G0 ROMOLA.
(Ireadinc^ would be worse than he liad inia^inotl it. But soon
tliero was :i reactioi) : such i)u\vei' of clisliku and resistance as
there was williin him Avas beginning to rise against a wife
wliose voice seemed like tlie heralil of a retributive fate. Her,
at k'ast, his quick mind told him that he might master.
" It is useless," he said, coolly, " to answer the words of
madness, Komola. Your peculiar feeling about your father
has made you mad at this moment. Any rational person look-
ing at the case from a due distance will see that I have taken
the wisest course. Apart from the influence of your exagger-
ated feelings on him, I am convinced that Messer Bernardo
would be of that 0])inion."
" He would not !" said Romola. " He lives in the hope of
seeing my father's wish exactly fulfilled. We spoke of it to-
gether only yesterday. He will help me yet. Who are these
men to whom you have sold my fatlier's property ?"
"There is no reason why you should not be told, except
that it signifies little. The Count di San Severino and the
Seneschal de Beaucaire are now on their way with the king
to Sienna,"
"They may be overtaken and persuaded to give up their
purchase," said Komola, eagerly, her anger beginning to be
surmounted by anxious thought.
" No, they may not," said Tito, with cool decision.
" Why ?"
" Because I do not choose that they should."
"But if you were paid the money? — we will pay you the
money," said Komola. No words could have disclosed more
fully her sense of alienation from Tito; but they were si)okcn
with less of bitterness than of anxious ])leading. And he felt
strotigcr, for he saw that the iirst impulse of fury was past.
" No, my Komola. Understand tliat such thoughts as these
are impracticable. You avouIiI not, in a reasonable moment,
ask your godfather to l)ury three thousand florins in addition
to what he has already paid on the library. I think your
pride and delicacy would shrink from that."
She began to tremble and turn cold again with discourage-
ment, and sank down on the carved chest near whic^h she M'as
standing. He Avent on in a clear A'oice, un«ler Avhich she shud-
dered, as if it had been a narrow cold stream coursing over a
liot chei'k.
"Moreover, it is not my Avill thr.t Messer Bernardo shoifld
are you take any
step or utter any word on the subject, what Avill be the conse-
quences of your placing your.self in oj)position to me, and try*
EOMOLA. 261
ing to exhibit your husband in the odious light which your
own distempered feelings cast over him. What object will
you serve by injuring me with Messer Bernardo? The event
is irrevocable, the library is sold, and you are my wife."
Every word was spoken for the sake of a calculated effect,
for his intellect was urged into the utmost activity by the
dansfer of the crisis. He knew that Romola's mind would
take in rapidly enough all the wide meaning of his speech.
He waited and watched her in silence.
She had turned her eyes from him and was looking on thu
ground, and in that way she sat for several minutes. When
she spoke her voice was quite altered — it W'as quiet and cold.
" I have one thing to ask."
" Ask any thing that I can do without inj uring us both,
Romola."
" That you will give me that portion of the money which
belongs to my godfather, and let me pay him,"
" I must have some assurance f I'om you, first, of the atti-
tude you intend to take towards me."
" Do you believe in assurances, Tito ?" she said, with a
tinge of returning bitterness.
" From you, I do."
"I will do you no harm. I shall disclose nothing. I wall
say nothing to pain him or you. You say truly, the event is
irrevocable."
"Then I will do what you desire to-morrow morning."
" To-night, if possible," said Romola, " that we may not
speak of it again."
"It is possible," he said, moving towards the lamp, Avhile
she sat still, looking away from him with absent eyes.
Presently he came and bent down over her, to put a piece
of paper into lier hand. " You will receive something in re-
turn, you are aware, my Romola?" he said, gently, not mind-
ing so much what had passed, now he was secure ; and feeling
able to try and propitiate her.
" Yes," she said, takino; the paper, Avithout looking at him.
" I understand."
" And you will forgive me, my Romola, when you have had
time to reflect" He just touched her brow with his lips, but
she took no notice, and seemed really unconscious of the act.
She was aware that he unlocked the door and went out.
She moved her head and listened. The great door of the
court opened and shut again. She started up as if some sud-
den freedom had come, and going to her father's chair where
his picture was propped, fell on her knees before it, and burst
into sobs.
202 UOMOLA.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
RALDASSAKUE MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE.
When Baldassarre was wandcrinpr about Florence iti Rer.rc4
of a spare outhouse where he might have tlie elieapest ot shel-
it<3ved beds, his steps had been attracted towards that sole por-
tion of irround within the walls of the citv which is not iter-
fectly level, and where the s])ectator, lifted above the roofs of
the houses, can see beyond the city to the i)rotecting hills and
far-stretching valley, otherwise shut out from bis view except
along the welcome opening made by the course of the Arno.
Part of that ground has been alreatly seen by us as the hill of
Bogoli, at that time a great stone quairy ; but the side towards
which Baldassarre directed his steps was the one that sloped
down behind the Via de' J>ardi, and was most commonly called
the liill of San (iiorgio. Bratti had told him that Tito's dwell-
ing was in the Via de' Bardi ; and, after surveying that stieet,
he turned up the slope of the hill which he had oljscrved as he
was crossing the bridge. If he could iind a sheltering out-
house on that hill, he would bo glad : he had now for some
years been accustomed to live with a broad sky about him ;
and, moreover, the narrow passes of the streets, with their
strip of sky above, and the unknown labyrinth around them,
seemed to intensify his sense of loneliness and feeble memory.
The hill was sjtarsely inhabited, and covered chiefly by gar-
dens ; but in one spot was a piece of rough ground jagged
witli gfeat stones, which had never been cultivated since a
landslip had ruined some houses there towards the end of the
thirteenth century. Just above the edge of tliis broken ground
htood a (pux'r little square building, looking like a truncated
tower roofed in with fluted tiles, and close ])y was a small out-
house, ap])arciitly built uj) against a piece of ruined stone-wall.
Under a large half-deatl mulberry-tree that was now sending
its last fluttering leaves in at the open door-ways, a shrivelled,
hardy old woman was untying a goat with two kids, and r>al-
dassarre coulil see that part of tlu- outbuilding was occu])ied
by live-stock ; l)ut thi' door of the other part was open, and it
was empty of every thing but some tools and straw. It was
lust the sort of place he wanted. lie spoke to the ol«l woman ;
l)Ut it was not till he got close to her and shouted in her ear
that he succeeded in making her understand liis want of a
lodging, and his readiness to pay for it. At first he could get
IIOMOLA. 263
no answer beyond shakovS of the head and the words, " No — •
no lodging," uttered in the muffled tone of the deaf. But, by
dint of persistence, he made clear to her that he was a poor
stranger from a long way over seas, and could not afford to go
to hostelries ; that lie only wanted to lie on the straw in the
outhouse, and would pay her a quattrino or two a week for
that shelter. She still looked at him dubiously, shaking her
head and talking low to herself ; but presently, as if a new
thought occurretl to her, she fetched a hatchet from the house,
and showing him a chump that lay half covered with litter in
a, corner, asked him if he would chop that up for her : if he
would, he might lie in the outhouse for one niglit. He agreed,
and Monna Lisa stood with her arms akimbo to watch him,
with a smile of gratified cunning, saying low to herself,
" It's lain there ever since iv.y old man died. What then ?
I might as well have put a stone on the fire. He chops very
well, though he does speak with a foreign tongue, and looks
odd. I couldn't liave got it done cheaper. And if he only
wants a bit of straw to He on, I might make him do an errand
or two up and down the hill. Who need know ? And sin
that's hidden 's half forgiven.* lie's a stranger : he'll take
no notice of her. And I'll tell her to keep her tongue still."
The antecedents to these feminine pronouns had a pair of
blue eyes, which at that moment were applied to a large rou:: I
hole in the shutter of the upper window. The shuttt r was
closed, not for any penal reasons, but because only the (>/[)Osite
window had the luxury of glass in it: the weather was not
warm, and a round hole four inches in diameter served all the
purposes of observation. The hole was unfortunately a little
too high, and obliged the small observer to stand on a low
stool of a rickety character ; but Tessa would have stood a
long while in a much more inconvenient position for the sake
of seeing a little variety in her life. She had been drawn to
the opening at the first loud tones of the strange voice speak-
ing to Monna Lisa; and darting gently across her rooiu every
now and then to peep at something, she continued to stand
there until tlie wood had been chopped, and she saw Baldas-
sarre enter the outhouse, as the dusk was gathering, and seat
himself ou the strav/.
A great temptation had laid hold of Tessa's mind; she
would go and take that old man part of her supper, and talk
to him a little. He was not deaf like Monna Lisa, and besides
she could say a great many things to him that it was no use to
shout at Monna Lisa, who knew them already. And he was a
* "Pecato celato e mezzo perdonato." — Pro v.
264 ItOMOLA.
str.incjcr — strnnctors came from a loiii:; way ofF and went away
aijain, and livi-d nowliere in particular. It Mas naughty, she
l^new, for obedience made the largest part in Tessa's idea of
duty ; but it would be sometliing to confess to t]io pddre next
Pascjua, and there was nothing else to confess except going to
sleep sometimes over her beads, and being a little cross witli Mon-
na Lisa because she Avas so deaf ; for she had as much idleness
as she liked now, and was never frightened into telling white
lies. She turned away from her shutter with rather an excited
expression in her childish face, which was as pretty and pouting
as ever. Her garb was still that of a simple contadiiia,but of
a contadina prepared for a, festa : her gown of dark-green
serge, with its red girdle, was very clean and neat ; she had
the string of red glass beads round her neck ; and her brown
liair, rough from curliness, was duly knotted ui) and fastened
with the silver pin. She had but one new ornament, and she
was very proud of it, for it was a fine gold ring.
She sat on the low stool, nursing lier knees, for a mimite
or two, with her little soul poised in tluttering excitement on
the edge of this pleasant transgression. It was quite irresisti-
ble : she had been commanded to make no acquaintances,
and warned that if she did all her new ha])]»y lot would vanish
away, and be like a hidden treasure that turned to lead as soon
as it was brought to the daylight; and she had been so obedi-
ent that when she had to go to church she had kept her face
shaded by lier hood, and had pursed up her lips quite tightlv. It
was true her obedience had been a little h jlped by her own hall I fetch you a bit of cold
sausage V
lie sliook liis head, but he looked so mild now that Tessa
felt quite at her ease.
" Well, then, I've got a little baby. Such a pretty bambi-
■netto, with little fingers and nails ! Not old yet ; it was born
at the Nativita, Mouna Lisa says. I was married one Nativi-
tii, a long, long while ago, and nobody knew. O SaiUa IVIadon-
na ! I didn't mean to tell you that I"
Tessa set up her shoulders and bit her lip, looking at Bal-
dassarre as if this betrayal of secrets must have an exciting ef-
fect on him too. But he seemed not to care much ; and per-
haps that was in the nature of strangers.
" Yes," she said, canying on her thought aloud, " you aro
a stranger ; you don't live anywhere or know any body, do
you V"
" No," said Baldassarrc, also thiid^ing aloud, rather than
consciously answering, " I only know one man."
" His name is not Nofri,is it?" said Tessa, anxiously.
" No," said Baldassarrc, noticing her look of fear. " Is
that your husband's name ?"
That mistaken supposition was very amusing to Tessa.
She laughed and cla])ped her hands as she said,
" No, indeed ! But I must not tell you any thing about my
husband. You would never think what he is — not at all like
Nofri !"
She laughed again at the delightful incongruity between
the name of Nofri — which was not separable from the idea of
tlie cross-grained step-father^ — and the idea of her husband.
" Jiut i don't see him very often," she went on, more grave-
ly. "And sometimes I ])ray to the Holy Madonna to send
him oftener; and once she did. But I must go back to my
bariibhutto now. I'll bring it to show you to-morrow. You
would like to see it. Sometimes it cries and makes a face,
but only when it's hungry, ]Monna Lisa says. You wouldn't
think it, but Moima Lisa had babies once, and they are all dead
old men. My husband says she Avill never die now, because
.she's so well" dried. I'm "glad of that, for I'm fond of her.
You would like to stay here to-morrow, shouldn't you?"
" I shcMild like to liave this ])lace to come and rest in, that's
all," said Baldassarre. "1 would pay for it, and harm no-
body."
"No, indeed ; T think you are not a bad old man. But you
KOMOLA. 267
look sorry about something. Tell me, is there any thing yon
shall cry about when I leave you by yourself? I used to cry
once."
" Xo, cliihl ; I think I shall cry no more."
" That's right ; and I'll bring you some breakfast, and show
you the bambino. Gootl-night !"
Tessa took up her bowl and lantern, and closed the door
behind her. The pretty loving apparition had been no more
to Ealdassarre than a faint rainbow on the blackness to the
man who is wrestling in deep waters. He hardly thought of
her again till his dreamy waking passed into the more vivid
images of disturbed sleep.
But Tessa thought much of him. She had no sooner en-
tered the house than she told Monna Lisa what she had done,
and insisted that the stranger should be allowed to come and
rest in the outhouse when he liked. The old woman, who had
had her notions of making him a useful tenant, made a great
show of reluctance, shook her head, and urged that Messer
Naldo would be angry if she let any one come about the
house. Tessa did not believe that. Messer Naldo had said
nothing against strangers who lived nowhere ; and this old
man knew nobody except one person, who was not Nofri.
" Well," conceded Monna Lisa, at last, " if I let him stay
for a while and carry things up the hill for me, thou must keep
thy counsel and tell nobody."
*" No," said Tessa, "I'lfonly tell the bambino:'
" And then," Monna Lisa went on, in her thick under-tone,
" God may love us well enough not to let Messer Naldo find
out any thing about it. For he never comes here but at dark ;
and as he was here two days ago, it's likely he'll never come
at all till the old man's gone away again."
" Oh me ! Monna," said Tessa, clasping her hands, " I wish
Naldo had not to go such a long, long way sometimes before
he comes back again."
"Ah, child, the world's big, they say. There are places
behind the mountains, and if people go night and day, night
and day, they get to Rome, and see the Holy Father."'
Tessa looked submissive in the presence of this mystery,
and began to rock her baby and sing syllables of vague loving
meaning, in tones that imitated a triple chime.
The next morning she was unusually industrious in the
prospect of more dialogue, and of the pleasure she should give
the poor old stranger by showing him her baby. But before
she could get ready to take Baldassarre his breakfast she found
that Monna Lisa had been employing him as a drawer of water.
She deferred her paternosters, and hurried down to insist that
2C8 KOMOLA.
Baldassarro should sit on liis straw, so tliat she mi<,'ht come
and sit by him again wliile lie ate his breakfast. 'I'liat atti-
tude made the new companionshii) all the more delightful to
Tessa, for she had l)een used to sitting on straw in old days
along with her goats and mules.
" I will not let Monna Lisa give you too much work to do,"
she said, bringing him some steaming broth and soft breaiL
" I don't like much work, and I dare say you doiTt. I like sit-
ting in the sunshine and feeding things. Monna Ijisa says work
is good, but she does it all herself, so I don't mind. She is not
a cross old woman — you needn't be afraid of her being cross.
And now you cat that, and I'll go and fetch my baby and show
it you."
Presently she came back with the small mummy-case in her
arms. The mummy looked very lively, liaving unusually large
dark eyes, though no more than the usual indication of a fu-
ture nose.
" This is my baby," said Tessa, seating herself close to Bal-
dassarre. "You didn't think it was so ])retty, did you ^ It
is like the little Gesu, and I should think the Santa Madonna
would be kinder to me now, is it not true? Jiut I have not
much to ask for, because I have every thing now — only that
I sliould see my husband oftener. You may hold the Iniiidtl-
no a little if you like, but I think you must not kiss liim, be-
cause you might liurt him."
She spoke this prohibition in a tone of soothing excuse, and
Baldassarre could not refuse to hold the small pai-kage.
" Poor thing ! j)oor thing !" he said, in a deep voice, which
had something strangely threatening in its ajiparent pity. It
did not seem to him as if this guileless loving little woman
could recimcile him to the world at all, but rather tliat she
was with him against the world, and that she was a creature
who would need to be a\eng('d.
" Oh, don't you be sorry for me," she said ; " for, though
I don't see him often, he is more beautiful and good than any
body else in the world. I say prayers to him when he's away.
You couldn't think what he is !"
She looked at Baldassarre with a wide glance of mysteri-
ous meaning, taking the baby from him again, and almost
wisliing he would question her as if he wanted very nauch to
know more.
" Yes, I could," said Baldassarre, rather bitterly.
" No, I'm sure you never could," said Tessa, earnestly.
"You thought he might be Nofri," she added, with a triunb
])l»ant air ot conclusiveness. '"But never mind; you couldn't
know. What is your name V"
270 ROMOI.A.
He rubbed liis liaml over liis knitted brow, then looked &t
her blankly, ati.l said, "Ah, child, wliat is it V"
It was not that he did not often reineniber his name well
enough; and if he had had presence of mind now to remem-
ber it, he would have chosen not to tell it. But a sudden
question appealing to his memory had a paralyzing effect, and
in that moment he was conscious of nothing but hel])less
rieBS.
Ignorant as Tessa was, the pity stirred in her by his blank
look taught her to say,
"Never mind; you are a stranger; it is no matter about
your having a name. Good-bye, now, because I want my
])reakfast. You will come here and rest when you like ; Mon-
na Lisa says you may. i\nd don't you be unhapi)y, lor we'll
be good to you."
" Poor thing !" said Baldassarre again.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
NO PLACE FOR REPENTANCE.
Messer Naldo came again sooner than was expected:
he came on the evening of the twenty-ciglith of Novem-
ber, only eleven days after his previous visit, proving that he
bad not gone far beyond the mountains ; and a scene which we
have witnessed as it took ))ltice that evening in the ^'ia de'
Bardi may helj) to exjjlain the impulse which turned his steps
towards the hill of San Giorgio.
When Tito had first foimd this home for Tessa, on his re-
turn from liome, more than a year and a half ago, he had
acted, he persuaded himself, simply under the constraint im-
posed on him by his own kimllint'ss after (he unlucky incident
which had made foolish little Tessa imagine him to be her
}msl>and. It was true that the kindness was manifested to-
wards a pretty, trusting thing, whom it was impossible to be
near without feeling inclined to caress and ])et her; but it was
not less tnu' that Tito had movements of kimlncss towards her
apart from any contemplated gain to himself. Otherwise,
cluirming as her ))rettiness and ])rattle were in a la/y moment,
he might have preferred to be free from her ; for he was not in
love with Tessa— he was in love, for the first time in his life,
with an entirely different woman, whom he was not simply
inclined to shower caresses on, but whose presence possessed
him so that the simple sweep of her long tresses across hia
EOMOLA. 271
cheek seemed to vibrate through tho hours. All the ycanj^
ideal passion he had in him had been stirred by Romola, and
his fibre was too fine, his intellect too bright, for him to be
tempted into the habits of a gross pleasure-seeker. But he
Had spun a vveb about himself and Tessa, which he felt inca-
pable of breaking : in the first moments after the mimic mar-
riage he had been prompted to leave her under an illusion by
a distinct calculation of his own possible need, but since that
critical moment it seemed to him that the web had gone on
spinning in spite of him, like a growth over which he had no
power. The elements of kindness and self-indulgence are hard
to distinguish in a soft nature like Tito's ; and the annoyance
he had felt under Tessa's pursuit of him on the day of his be-
trothal, the thorough intention of revealing the truth to her
with which he set out to fulfill his promise of seeing her again,
were a sufliciently strong argument to him that, in ultimately
leaving Tessa under her illusion, and providing a home for her,
he had been overcome by his own kindness. And in these
days of his first devotion to Romola he needed a self-justify-
ing argument. He had learned to be glad that she Avas de-
ceived about some things. But every strong feeling makes
to itself a conscience of its own — has its own piety: just as
much as the feeling of the son towards the mother, which will
sometimes survive amidst the worst fumes of depravation ;
and Tito could not yet be easy in committing a secret offense
against his wedded love.
But he was all the more careful in taking precautions to
preserve the secrecy of the offense. Monna Lisa, Avho, like
many of her class, never left her habitation except to go to
one or two particular shops, and to confession once a year,
knew nothing of his real name and whereabout : she only knew
that he paid her so as to make her very comfortable, and mind-
ed little about the rest, save that she got fond of Tessa, and
liked the cares for which she was paid. There was some
mystery behind, clearly, since Tessa was a contadina, and Mes-
ser Naldo was a signor ; but, for aught Monna Lissa knew, he
might be a real husband. For Tito had thoroughly frighten-
ed Tessa into silence about the circumstances of their mar-
riage, by telling her that if she broke that silence she would
never see him again ; and Monna Lisa's deafness, which made
it impossible to say any thing to her without some pi'emedita-
tion, had saved Tessa from any incautious revelation to her,
such as had run off her tongue in talking with Baldassarre.
And for a long while Tito's visits were so rare, that it seemed
likely enough he took journeys between them. They were
prompted chiefly by the desire to see that all things were go*
272 KOMOLA.
ing on well with Tessa ; and thougli lie always found his vi8«
it pleasanter than the prospect of it — always felt anew the
charm oi that j)rclty, iuiiorant lovingnoss and trust — he liad
not yet any real need ot it. JJut he was determined, if jtossi-
ble, to ]>reserve the simplicity on which the charm depended ;
to keep Tessa a genuine eontadiua, and not jdace the small tield-
iiower among conditions that would rob it of its grace. He
would have been shocked to see her in the dress of any other
rank than her own ; tlie piquancy of her talk would be all gone
if things began to have new relations for her, if her world be-
came wider, her j)leasures less childish ; and the scjuirrel-liko
enjoyment of nuts at discretion marked the standard of the
luxuries he ])rovided for her. By this means Tito saved Tes-
sa's charm from being sullied ; and he also, by a convenient
coincidence, saveil himself from aggravating expenses that
were already rather importunate to a man wliose money was
all required for his avowed habits of life.
This, in brief, had been the history of Tito's relation to
Tessa up to a very recent day. It is true that once or twice
before Bardo's death the sense that there was Tessa up the
hill, with whom it was possible to ]:»ass an hour agreeably, had
been an indu(;cment to him to escape from a little weariness
of the old man, when, for lack of any positive engagement, ho
might otherwise have borne the weariness patiently and shared
Komohfs burden. But the moment when he had iirst felt a
real hunger for Tessa's ignorant lovingness and belief in him
had not come till quite lately, and it was distinctly marked
out by circumstances as little to Vie forgotten as the oncoming
of a malady that has permanently vitiated the sight and hear-
ing. It "was the day when he had first seen Baldassarre, and
had bought the armor. Keturnitig across the bridge that
night, with the coat of mail in his hands, lie had felt an
unconquerable shrinking from an immediate encounter with
liomola. She, too, knew little of the actual world ; she, too,
trusted him ; but he had an uneasy consciousness that behind
her frank eyes there was a nature that could judge him, and
\ f that any ill-founded trust of hers sprang not from ])retty brute-
like incapacity, but from a nobleness which miglit jirove an
alarming touchstone. He wanted a little ease, a little repose
from self-control, after the agitation and exertions of the day;
hr wanted to be where ho could adjust his mind to the mor-
T()\y, without caring how he b('haveo, for she said they might carry our kids off ; she said
it was their business to do mischief. J5ut the Holy ^ladouna
took care of us, for we never saw one of them iip here. r>ut
something has haj)pened, only I hardly dare tell you, and that
is what I was saying more avcs for."
"What do you mean, Tessa?" said Tito, rather anxiously.
" Make haste an has to be repaired. ''How are
we to raise the money for the Fi-ench king? How are we to
manage the war with those obstinate Pisan rebels ? Above
all, how are we to mend our plan of government so as to hit on
the best way of getting our magistrates chosen and our laws
voted?" Till those questions were well answered trade was
in danger of standing still, and that large body of the working
men who were not counted as citizens, and had not so much as
% vote to serve as an anodyne to their stomachs, were likely to
gex, imjiatient. Something must be done.
And first the great boll was sounded, to call the citizens to
a ])arliament in the Pia/za ut when the door had closed on Tito, Romola lost the
look of cold immobility which came over her like an inevita-
ble frost whenever he a]>proached her. Inwaidly she was
very far from being in a state of quiet endurance, antl tiie
days that had passed since the scene which had divided lier
from Tito had been days of active planning and preparation
for the fullilhnent of a ])urpose.
The first thing she did now was to call old ^laso to her.
"jMaso," she said, in a decided tone, " we take our journey
to-morrow morning. We shall be able now to overtake that
first Convoy of cloth, while they are waiting at San I'ie-
ro. See about the two mules to-night, and be ready to set
off with tin in ;it break of day, and wait for me at Prespia-
iio."
She meant to take Maso with her as far as Bologna, and
then send liini l)ack with letters to her godfather and Tito,
telling till in tliat she was gone and never meant to return.
She had jilanned her departure so that its secrecy might be
perfect, and her broken love and life be hidden away unscan-
ned by vulgar eyes. Ik-rnardo del Nero had been absent at
his villa, willing to escape from political susjticions to his fa-
vorite occupation ofatti'nding to his land, and she had paid
him the debt without a personal interview. He did not even
knf)w that the libr.irv was sold, and was left to conjecture
that some sudden pieee of good fortunt' had enabled Tito to
Ttiisc this sum of money. Maso had been taken into her con-
EOMOLA. 287
fidence only so far that he knew her intended journey was a
secret; and to do just what she told him was the thing he
eared most for in his withered wintry age.
Ronioia did not mean to go to bed that night. When she
had fastened the door she took her taper to the carved and
painted chest which contained her wedding-clothes. The
wliite silk and gold lay there, the long white veil and the
circlet of pearls. A great sob rose as she looked at them :
they seemed the shroud of her dead happiness. In a tiny gold
loop of the circlet a sugar-plum had lodged — a pink hailstone
from the shower of sweets : Tito had detected it iirst, and had
said that it should always remain there. At certain moments
— and this was oue of them — Romola was carried, by a sud-
den wave of memory, back again into the time of perfect trust,
and felt again the presence of the husband whose love made
the world as fresh and wonderful to her as to a little child
that sits in stillness among the sunny flowers: heard the gen-
tle tones and saw the soft eyes without any lie in them, and
breathed over again tliat large freedom of the soul which
comes from the faith that the being who is nearest to us is
greater than ourselves. And in those brief moments the tears
always rose : the woman's lovingness felt something akin to
what the bereaved mother feels when the tiny fingers seem to
lie warm on her bosom, and yet are marble to her lips as she
bends over the silent bed.
But there was something else lying in the chest besides the
wedding-clothes: it was something dark and coarse, rolled
up in a close bundle. She turned away her eyes from the
white and gold to the dark bundle, and as her hands touched
the serge her tears began to be checked. That coarse rough-
ness recalled her fully to the present, from which love and de-
light were gone. She unfastened the thick white cord and
spread the bundle out on the table. It was the gray serge
dress of a sister belonging to the third order of St. Francis,
living in the world but specially devoted to deeds of piety —
a personage whom the Florentines were accustomed to call
a Pinzochera. Romola was going to put on this dress as a
disguise, and she determined to put it on at once, so that, if
ishe needed sleep before the morning, she might wake up in
perfect readiness to be gone. She put oft' her'^black garment,
and as she thrust her soft white arms into the harsh sleeves
of the serge mantle and felt the hard girdle of rope hurt her
fingers as she tied it, she courted those rude, sensations : they
were in keeping with her new scorn of that thing called
pleasure which made men base — that dexterous contrivance
lor selfish ease, that shrinking from endurance and strain, when
288 UOMOhA.
others were bowincj beneatli burdens too lioavy for them,
"which now made t)iie imaj^c witli her liushaiiath clear, might after all bo
blindness, and that there was something in human Ixuidti
■.vliich must ]»reveut them from being broken with the break-
ing uf illusions.
EOMOLA, 285
Tf that beloved Tito who had placed the betrothal ring
upon her finger was not in any valid sense the same Tito
whom she had ceased to love, why should she return to him
the sign of their union, and not rather retain it as a memori-
al ? And this act, which came as a palpable demonstration
of her own and his identity, had a power, unexplained to her-
self, of shaking Romola. It is the way with half the truth
amidst which we live, that it only haunts us, and makes dull
pulsations that are never born into sound. But there was a
passionate voice speaking within her that presently nullified
all such muffled murmurs.
" It can not be ! I can not be subiect to him. He is false.
I shrink from him. I despise him !"
She snatched the ring from her finger, and laid it on the
table against the pen with which she meant to write. Again
she felt that there could be no law for her but the law of her
affections. That tenderness and keen fellow-feeling for the
near and the loved, which are the main outgrowth of the af-
fections, had made the religion of her life : they had made
her patient in spite of natural impetuosity ; they would have
sufficed to make her heroic. But now all that strength was
gone, or, I'ather, it was converted into the strength of repul-
sion. She had recoiled from Tito in proportion to the ener-
gy of that young belief and love which he had disappointed,
of that life-long devotion to her father against which he had
committed an irredeemable offense. And now it seemed as
if all motive had slipped away from her, except the indigna-
tion and scorn that made her tear herself asunder from him.
She was not acting after any precedent, or obeying any
adopted maxims. The grand severity of the stoical ]ilii-
losophy in which her father had taken care to instruct her
was familiar enough to her cars and lips, and its lofty spirit
had raised certain echoes within her ; but she had nevei
used it, never needed it, as a rule of life. She had endured
and forborne because she loved: maxims wHich told her to
feel less, and not to cling close, lest the onward course
of great Nature should jar her, had been as powerless on
her tenderness as they had been on her father's yearning
for just fame. She had appropriated no theories : she had
simply felt strong in th'. strength of aflfection, and life
without that energy came to her as an entirely new j)rob-
lem.
She was going to solve the problem in a way that seemed
to her very simple. Her mind had never yet bowed to any
obligation apart from ]iersonal love and reverence ; she had
DO keen sense of any other human relations, and all she had
13
290 noMOLA.
to obey now was tlie instinct to sever herself from the man
she loved no longer.
Vet the unswerving resolution was accornjcmied with con«
tinually varying ])hases of anguish. Ami nuw tliat the act-
ive preparation for her departure was almost finished, she
lino-eri'd ; she deferred writing the irrevocahk' words of i>art-
ing from all her little world. The emotions of the j)ast weeks
seemed to rush in again witli cruel hurry, and take posses-
sion even of her limbs. She was going to write, and lier
lumd fell. IJitter tears came now at the delusion which had
blighted lier young years : tears very ditierent from the sob
of remembered liappiness with which she had looked at the
circh't of pearls and the \nn\i. hailstone. And now she felt a
tinu'ling shame at the wor^ls of ignominy slie liad cast at Tito
— " Have you robbed some one else Avho is not deatl ?" To
have had such words wrung from her — to have uttered them
to lier liusband, seemed a degradation of her Avliole life.
Hard speech between those wlio have loved is liideous in the
memory, like the sight of greatness and beauty sunk into
vice and rags.
That heart-cutting comparison of the present with the
past urged itself upon Komola till it even transformed itself
into wretched sensations; she seemed benumbed to every
thing but inward tiirobbings, and began to feel the need of
some hard contact. She drew her hands tight along the
liarsh knotted cord that hung from lier waist. She started
to her feet, and seized the rough lid of tlie chest: there was
nothing else to go in ? No. She closed the lid, j)ressing her
hand upon the rough carving, and locked it.
Then she remend)ered that slie had still to comi)lete her
equipment as a l*inzochera. The large leather ]>urse or
scarsella, with small coin in it, had to be liung on the cord
at her waist (her florins and small jewels, presents from her
godfather and cousin J>rio;ida, were safely fastened with-
in her serge mantle) — and on (he other side must hang the ro*
sary. It did not occur to Komola as she hung that rosary
by her side that something else besides the mere garb woul<'.
])erhaps be necessary to enable her to jtass as a Pinzochera,
and that her whole air and expression were as little as pos-
sible like those of a sister whose eyelids were used to be bent
and whose lips were used to 77iove in silent iteration. Her
inexperience prevented her from ])icturing distant details,
and it helped her proud courage in shutting out any forebod-
ing of danger andrinsult. She did not know that any F'lor-
entine woman had ever done exactly what she was going to
do; iinhajipy wives often took refuge with their friends, oJ
EOilOLA. 291
In the cloister, slie knew, but both those courses were impos-
sible to her ; she had invented a lot for herself — to go to the
most learned woman in the world, Cassandra Fedele, at
Venice, and ask her how an instructed woman could 8up2)ort
herself in a lonely life there. She was not daunted by the
practical difficulties in the way or the dark uncertainty at
the end. Her life could never be happy any more, but it
must not, could not be ignoble. And bya pathetic mixture
of childish romance with her woman's trials, the philosopliy
which had nothing to do with this great decisive deed of hers
had its place in her imagination of the future: so far as she
conceived her solitary loveless life at all, she saw it animated
by a proud stoical heroism, and by an indistinct but strong
purpose of labor, that she might be wise enough to Avrite
something which would rescue her father's name" from obliv-
ion. After all, she was only a young girl — this poor Romo-
la, who had found herself at the end of her joys.
There were other things yet to be done. There Avas a
small key in a casket on the table — but now Romola per-
ceived that her taper was dying out, and she had forgotten
to 2>rovide herself with any other light. In a few moments
the room was in total darkness. Feeling her way to the
nearest chair, she sat down to wait for the morning.
Her purpose in seeking the key had called up certain mem-
ories which had come back upon her during the past week
with the new vividness tliat remembered words always have
for us when we have learned to give them a new meaning.
Since the shock of the revelation which had seemed to divide
her forever from Tito, that last interview wdth Dino had
never been for many hours together out of her mind. And
it solicited her all the more, because while its remembered
images pressed upon her almost Avith the imperious force of
sensations, they raised struggling thoughts which resisted
their influence. She could not prevent herself from hearing
iuAvardly the dying prophetic voice saying again and again,
"The man whose face-Avas a blank loosed thy hand and de-
parted; and as he went I could see his face, and it was the
face of the Great Tempter And thou, Romola, didst
wring thy hands and seek for water, and there Avas none ....
and the plain was bare and stony again, and thou wast alone
in the midst of it. And then it seemed that tlie night fell,
and I saw no more." She could not prevent herself from
dwelling witli a sort of agonized fascination on the Avasted
face; on the straining gaze at the crucifix; on the awe
Avhich had compelled her to kneel ; on the last broken Avoi-ds
and then the unbroken silence — on all the details of the
292 UOMULA.
ileatl)-sccne, which liad scciiumI like a sudtlen opening into a
MurM apart from that of her liie-h)nl" iiiii)ressions that,
from being obvious jjhantoms, seemed to be getting solid in
tlie dayliglit. As a strong body struggles against fumes
with the more Aiolence when they begin to be stiHing, a
strong soul struggles against jjhantasies with all the more
alarmed energy when they threaten to govern in the place
of thought. What had the words of that vision to do with
her real sorrows? That litting of certain words was a mere
chance ; the rest was all vague — nay, those words themselves
were vaLTUt'; tliey were determined l)y nothing but lier
brother's memories and beliefs. lie believed there was
something fatal in pagan learning; he believed that celibacy
Avas more holy than marriage: he remembered their home,
and all the objects in tlie library; and of these threads the
vision was woven. What reasonable warrant could she
liave liad for believing in such a vision and acting on it ?
None. True as the voice of foreboding had jtroved, Romola
saw witli unshaken conviction that to have renounced Tito
in obedience to a warning like that, would have been meagre-
liearted folly. Her trust had been delusive, but she would
have chosen over again to liave acted on it rather than be a
creature led by phantt)ms and disjointed whispers in a world
where there was the large music of reasonable speech and
the warm grasp of living hands.
But the persistent ])resence of these memories, linking
t'liemselves in lier imagination with her actual lot, gave her
a glimpse of understanding into the lives which had before
lain utterly aloof from her synijiatiiy — the lives of the men
and womeii who were led by suth inward images and voices.
" If they were only a little stronger in me," she said to
lu'rself, "I should k)se the sense of what tliat vision really
was, and take it ibr ?. prophetic light. I might in time get
to be a seer of visions myself, like the Suora ^laddalena, and
Camilla Kucellai and the rest."
liomola shuddered at the possibility. All the instruction,
all till" main influences of her life, had gone to fortify lier
scorn of that sickly superstition which led men and women,
with eyes too weak for the daylight, to sit in dark swain))S
and try to read human destiny by the chance flame of wan-
dering vapors.
Ami yet she was conscious of something deeper tlian that
coincidence of wt)r(ls which made the jiarting contact with
l\er (lying brother live anew in her mind, and gave her anew
Bisteriiood to t)ie wasted face. If there were much more of
KOMOLA. 293
such experience as his in the world she woukl like to under
stand It — would even like to learn the thoughts of men who
sank in ecstasy before the pictured agonies of martyrdom.
There seemed to be something more tlian madness in that
supreme fellowship with suffering. The springs were all
dried up around her: she wondered what other waters there
were at Avhich men drank and found strength in the desert.
And those moments in the Duomo when shehad sobbed with
a mysterious mingling of rapturo and pain when Fra Girola-
mo offered himself a willing sacrifice for the j^eople, came
back to her as if they had been a transient taste of some far-
off fountain. But again she shrank from impressions that
were alluring her within the sphere of visions and narrow
fears which compelled men to outrage natural affections as
Dino had done.
This was the tangled web that Romola had in her mind
as she sat weary in the darkness. Xo radiant angel came
across the gloom Avith a clear message for her. In those
times, as now, there were human beings who never saw an-
gels or heard perfectly clear messages. Such truth as came
to them was brought confusedly in the voices and deeds of
men not at all like the seraphsof unfailing wing and piercing
vision — men who believed falsities as well as truths, and did
the wrong as well as the right. The helping hands stretched
out to them were the hands of men who stumbled and often
saw dimly, so that these beings unvisited by angels had no
other choice than to grasp that stumbling guidance along
the path of reliance and action which is the path of life, or
else to pause in loneliness and disbelief, which is no path, but
the arrest of inaction and death.
And so Romola, seeing no ray across the darkness, and
heavy with conflict that changed nothino;, sank at last to
sleep.
CHAPTER XXXVU.
THE TABERXACLE UNLOCKED.
Romola was waked by a tap at the door. The cold light
of early morning Avas in the room, and Maso was come "for
the travelling wallet. The old man could not help starting
when she opened the door, and showed him, instead of the
graceful outline he had been used to, crowned with the brio;ht-
ncss of her hair, the thick folds of the gray mantle and the
pale face shadowed by the dark cowl.
" It is well, Maso." said Romola, trying to speak in the
294 i:i)M(>i,A.
calmest voice, and make the old man easy. " Here is tho
wallet quite ready. You ^\■ill go on quietly, and I shall not
be far behind you. Wlien you get out ofliu' gates you may
go more slowly, for I ^hall i)erha])S join you before *vou o-et
to Irespiano.
She closed the door behind him, and then ])ut her hand on
the key which she had taken from the casket the last thiii2
in the night. ^ It was the original key of the little painted
tabernacle : Tito had forgotten to drown it in the Arno, and
it had lodged, as such small things will, in the corner of the
embroidered scarsella which he Morc Avith the purple tunic.
One day, lolig after their marriage, Komola had found it
there, and bad put it by, Avithout using it, but Avith a sense
of satisfaction that the*key was Avithin reach. The cabinet
on Avhicli the tabernacle stood had been moved to the side
of tlve room, close to one of the windows, Avhere tlie i)ale
morning light fell upon it so as to maki' the painted forms
discernible enough to Komola, Avho knew them Avell — the tri-
umi)hant Uacchus, a\ ith his clusters and his vine-clad spear,
clas])ing the croAvned Ariadne ; the Loves showering roses,
the Avreathed vessels, the cunning-eyed dolphins, and the rip-
pled sea; all encircled by a tioAvery border, like a boAver of
paradise. IJomola looked at the familiar images Avith ncAv
bitterness and lepulsion : they seemed a more pitiable mock-
ery than ever on this chill morning, Avhen she had Avaked up
to Avander in loneliness. They had been no tond) of sorroAV,
but a lying screen. Foolish Ariadne ; Avith her gaze of love,
as if that bright face, Avith its hyacinthine curls like tendrils
among the vines, held the deep secret of iier life !
"Ariadne is Avonderfully ti-ansformed," thought Romola.
" She Avould look strange among the vines and the roses
noAV."
She took u]) the mirror, and looked at herself once more.
Rut the sight was so startling in this morning light that she
laiil it down again, Avith a sense of shrinking almost as strong
as that Avith Avhich she had turned frojn the joyous Aiiadne.
The recognition of her oavu face, Avith the cowl about it,
brought back the dread lest she should be drawn at last into
fellowship Avith some Avretched superstition — into the com-
pany of tlie howling fanatics and Aveepiiig nuns who had been
her i'ontcmpt from childhood till now. Sjic thrust the key
into the tabciii.acle hurriedly: hurriedly she opened it, and
took out the crucifix, Avithoul looking at it; tlien, Avith ticm-
Iding fingers, she ])assed a cord through the little ring, hung
the crucifix round her neck, and hid it in the bosom of heJ
mantle. "For Dino's sake," she said to herself
ROMOLA. 295
Still there Avere the letters to be written which Maso was
to carry back from Bologna. They were very brief. The
first said :
Tito, my love for you is dead ; and therefore, so far as I was yours, I too
am dead. Do not try to put in force an}' laws for the sake of fetcliing me
back : that would bring you no happiness. The Romola you married can
never return. I need explain nothing to you after the words I uttered to you
the last time we spoke long together. If you supposed them to be words of
transient anger, you will know now that they were the sign of an irreversible
change.
I think you will fulfill my wish that my bridal chest should be sent to my
god Either, who gave it me. It contains my wedding-clothes, and the portraits
and other relics of my father and mother.
She folded the ring inside this letter, and wn-ote Tito's
name outside. The next letter was to Bernardo del Nero :
" Dearest Godfather, — If I could have been any good to your life by
staving I would not have gone away to a distance. But now I am gone.
Do not ask the reason ; and if you loved my lather, try to prevent any one
from seeking me. I could not bear my life at Florence. I can not bear to
tell any one why. Help to cover my lot in silence. I have asked that my
bridal chest should be sent to you : when you open it you will know' the rea-
son. Please to give all the things that were my mother's to my cousin Bri-
gida, and ask her to forgive me for not saying any words of jiarting to her.
' ' Farewell, my second father. The best thing I have in life is still to re-
member yoiu- goodness and be grateful to you. Eojiola."
Romola put the letters, along with the crucifix, within the
bosom of her mantle, and then felt that eveiy thing was done.
She was ready now to depart.
No one Avas stirring in the house, and she w^ent almost as
quietly as a gray phantom down the stall's and into the si-
lent street. Her heart was palpitating violcnth% yet she en-
joyed the sense of her firm tread on the broad flags — of the
swift movement, which was like a chained-up resolution set
free at last. The anxiety to carry out her act, and the dread
of any obstacle, averted sorrow ; and as she reached the Ponte
Kubaconte she felt less that Santa Croce was in her sight
th^n that the yellow streak of morning which parted the
gray was getting broader and broader, and that, unless she
hastened her stejjs, she should have to encounter faces. Her
simplest road was to go right on to the Borgo Pinti, and then
along by the walls to the Porta San Gallo, from which she
must leave the city, and this road carried her by the Piazza
di Santa Croce. But she walked as steadily and rapidly as
ever through the piazza, not trusting herself to look towards
the church. Tlie thouglit that any eyes might be turned on
her with a look of curiosity and recognition, and that indif-
ferent minds might be set speculating on her private sorrows,
made Romola shrink physically as from the imagination of
29G KOMOLA.
torture. Slie felt dcjijradcd even l>y that act of her husbancl
from whieh she was lielplessly sutt'ernirj. IJiit there was no
sijijii that any eyes looked forth from windows to notice this
tall t^ray sister, with the firm step and proud attitude of the
cowicd iiead. Ilcr road lay aloof from the stir of early traf-
fic ; anut when
she had jiassed Pietra, and Mas on rising ground, she lifted
up the hanging roof of her cowl and looked eagerly belbre
her.
The cowl was dropped again immediately. She had seen
— not]Maso,but — two monks, who were approaching within a
few yards ol Iut. Tlie edge of her cowl making a jjent-house
on her brow had shut out the objects above the level of her
eyes, and for the last few moments she had been looking at
nothing hut tlu- brightness on the jjath and at herown shatlow,
tall and shrouded like a dread spectre. She wished now^ that
ebe had not looked u]». ITer disguise made h'jr especially/
E05I0LA. 297
dislike to encoianter monks : they might expect some pious
pass-words of which she knew nothing, and she walked along
with a careful appearance of unconsciousness till she had seen
the skirts of the black mantles pass by her. The encounter
had made her heart beat disagreeably ; for Romola had an
uneasiness in her religious disguise, a shame at this studied
concealment, which was made more distinct by a special ef-
fort to appear unconscious under actual glances.
But the black skills would be gone the faster because they
were going down hill ; and seeing a great flat stone against
a cypress that rose from* a projecting green bank, she yielded
to the desire which the slight shock had given her to sit down
and rest.
She turned her back on Florence, not meaning to look at it
till the monks were quite out of sight ; and raising the edge
of her cowl again when she had seated herself, she discerned
Maso and the mules at a distance where it Avas not hopeless
for her to overtake them, as the old man would probably linger
in expectation of her.
Meanwhile she might pause a little. She was free and
alone.
CHAPTER XXXVni.
THE BLACK MARKS BECGIME MAGICAL.
That journey of Tito's to Rome, which had removed many
difficulties from Romola's departure, had been resolved on
quite suddenly, at a supper, only the evening before.
Tito had set out towards that supper with agreeable ex-
pectations. The meats were likely to be delicate, the wines
choice, the company distinguished ; for the place of entertain-
ment was the Selva, or Orto de' Rucellai — or, as we should
say, the Rucellai Gardens; and the host, Bernardo Rucellai,
was quite a typical Florentine grandee. Even his family name
has a significance which is preUily symbolic : properly under-
stood, it may bring before us a little lichen, popularly named
orcella or roccella, which grows on the rocks of Greek isles and
in the Canaries ; and having drunk a great deal of light into
its little stems and button-heads, will, under certain circum-
stances, give it out again as a reddish purple dye, very grate-
ful to the eyes of me^n. By bringing the excellent secret of
this dye, called oricello, from the Levant to Florence, a certain
merchant, who lived nearly a hundred years before our licr-
nardo's time, won for himself and his descendants much wealth,
and the pleasantly-suggestive surname of Oricellari, or Roc-
13*
298
EOMOI.A.
ceDari, whioli on Tuscan tongues speedily became RucelhL
And our IJcrnanlo, wlio stands out more y>roniinently tlian tl\o
rest on tliis purple background, liail addt'd all sorts of dis-
tinction to tlie family name: he had married the sister of Lo-
renzo de' Medici, and had liad the most Sjileiulid wedding in
the memorv of Florentine upholstery ; and for these and other
virtues he had been sent on embassies to France and Venice,
and had been chosen Gonfaloniere ; lie liad not only built him-
self a tine ))alacc', but had linished jiutting the black and white
marble fayade to the chuieh of Santa Maiia Ninclla ; he had
planted a garden with rare trees, and hail made it classic
ground by receiving Avithin it the meetings of the Platonic
Academy, orphaned by the death of Lorenzo; lie had written
an excellent, learned book, of a new to])ogi-ai)hical sort, about
ancient Home; he had collected antiquities; he had a ])ure
Latinity. The simplest account of him one sees reads like a
laudatory epitaph, at the end of which tlu- (ilreek and Auso-
nian IMuses miglit be confidently requested to tenr tiicir hair,
and Nature to Mcsist from any second attemi)t to combine so
many virtues with one set of viscera.
I lis invitation had been conveyed to Tito through Lorenzo
Tornabuoni, with an emphasis whicli would liave suggested
UOMOLA. 299
that the object of the gathering Avas political, even if the pub-
lic questions of the time had been less absorbing. As it was,
Tito felt sure that some party purposes were to be furthered
by the excellent flavors of stewed fish and old Greek wine ;
for Bernardo Rucellai was not simply an influential person-
age, he was one of the elect Twenty who for three weeks had
held the reins of Florence. This assurance put Tito in the
best spirits as he made his way to the Via della Scala, where
the classic garden Avas to be found : without it, he might have
had some uneasy speculation as to whether the high company
he would have the honor of meeting was likely to be dull as
well as distinguished ; for he had had experience of various
dull suppers even in the Rucellai gardens, and especially of
the dull philoso])hic sort, wherein he had not only been called
upon to accept an entire scheme of the universe (which would
have been easy to him), but to listen to an exDosition of the
same, from the origin of things to their complete ripeness in
the tractate of the philosopher then speaking.
It was a dark evening, and it was only Avhen Tito crossed
the occasional light of a lamp suspended before an image of
the Virgin that the outline of his figure was discernible enough
for recognition. At such moments any one caring to Avatch
his passage from one of these lights to another might have
obserA'ed that the tall and graceful personage Avith the man-
tle folded round him Avas foUoAved constantly by a A'ery dif-
ferent form, thick-set and elderly, in a serge tunic and felt hat.
The conjunction might have been taken for mere chance, since
there were many passengers along the streets at this hour.
But Avhen Tito stopi:)ed at the gate of the Rucellai gardens
the figure behind stopped too. The sportello^ or smaller door
of the gate, Avas already being held open by the servant, Avho,
in the distraction of attending to some question, had not yet
closed it since the last arrival, and Tito turned in rapidly,
giving his name to the servant, and passing on betAveen the
evergreen bushes that shone like metal in the torch-liglit.
The follower turned in too.
" Your name '?" said the serA'ant.
" Baldassarre Calvo," Avas the immediate answer.
" You are not a guest ; the guests have all passed."
" I belong to Tito Melema, AA'ho has just gone in. I am to
wait in the gardens."
The servant hesitated. " I had orders to admit only
guests. Are you a servant of Messer Tito ?"
" Xo, friend, I am not a servant ; I am a scholar."
There are men to Avhom you need only say, " I am a buffa.
lo," in a certain tone of quiet confidence, and they Avill let
300 UOMOLA.
you pass. The porter i^^vo way at riico, TJaldassarrc cntcrci,
ivml lu-anl the door closed and eliaiiied l)t.'liuid him, as he too
tlisapjjcured amonrj the shining bushes.
Tliose ready and firm answers argued a great cliaiige in
lialdassarre since tlie hist meeting face to face with Tito,
wliei) tlie dagger broke in two. The chanifc liad decLared
itself in a startling way.
At the moment when the shadow of Tito passed in front
lof the Jiovel as lie dej»artetl homeward, lialdassarre was sit-
'ting in that state of after-tremor known to every one who is
liable to great outbursts of ])assion — a state in whicli jtliysi-
cal ])owerlessness is sometimes accompanied by an exception-
al lucidity of thought, as if that disengagement of cxciled
passion had carried away a fire-mist and left clearness beliind
it. He felt unable to rise and walk away just yet ; his limbs
seemed benumbed ; he was cold, and his hand shook. IJut
in that bodily helplessness he sat surrounded, not by the ha-
bitual dimness and vanishing shadows, but by the clear images
of the past: he was living again in an unbroken course
through that life which seemed a long preparation for the
taste of bitterness. For some minutes he was too thoroughly
absorbed by the images to reflect on the fact that he saw
them, and note the fact as a change. Hut when that sudden
deaniess had travelled through the distance, and came at
last to rest on the scene just gone by, he felt fully where ho
was: he remembered .'Nlonna Lisa and Tessa. Ah I /ic then
was the mysterious luisband ; he who had another Avife in the
Via de' Bardi, It was time to pick up the broken dagger
and go — go and leave no trace of himself; for to hide his fee-
bleness seemed the thing most like j)ower that was left to him.
He leaned to take up the fragments of the dagger; then he
turned towards the book which lay open at his side. It was
a fine large manuscript, an odd volume of Pausanias. The
moonlight was upon it, and he could see the large letters at
the head of the l)age:
ME22IINIKA. KB'.
In old days he had known Pausanias familiarly; yet an hour
or two ago he had been looking ho])elessly at that ]»age, and
it had suggested no more meaning to him than if the letters
had been black weather-marks on a wall ; but at this mo-
ment they Avere once more the magic signs that conjure up a
world. That moonbeam falling on the letters had raised
Messenia before him, and its struggle against the Spartan op-
pression. He snatched up the book, but the light was too
pale for hini to reae sheared ofl" him i)y the shaijx'st of Teutons. lie wel-
ROMOLA. 305
coined Tito with more marked favor than usual, and gave
him a place between Lorenzo Tornabuoni and Giannozzo Puc-
ci, both of them accomplished young members of the Medi-
cean party.
Of course, the talk was the lightest in the world while the
brass bowl, tilled with scented water, was passing round, that
the company might wash their hands, and rings flashed on
white fingers under the wax-lights, and there was the pleas-
«ant fragrance of fresh white damask newly come from
France. The tone of remark was a very common one in
those times. Some one asked what Dante's pattern old Flor-
entine Avould think if the life could come into him again
under his leathern belt and bone clasp, and he could see
silver forks on the table. And it was agreed on all hands
that the habits of posterity would be very surprising to an-
cestors, if ancestors could only know them. And Avhile the
silver forks Averejust dallying with the appetizing delicacies
that introduced the more serious business of the supper — such
as morsels of liver, cooked to that exquisite point that they
would melt in the mouth — there was time to admire the
designs on the enamelled silver centres of the brass service,
and to say something, as usual, about the silver dish for con-
fetti, a masterpiece of Antonio Pollajuolo, whom patronizing
Popes had seduced from his native Florence to more gor-
geous Rome.
" Ah ! I remember," said Niccolo Ridolfi, a middle-aged
man, with that negligent ease of manner which, seeming to
claim nothing, is really based on the life-long consciousness
of commanding rank — " I remember our Antonio getting bit-
ter about his chiselling and enamelling of these metal things,
and taking in a fury to painting, because, said he, ' the artist
who puts his w^ork into gold and silver puts bis brains into
the melting-pot."
"And that is not unlikely to be a true foreboding of An-
tonio's," said Giannozzo Pucci. "If this pi-etty war with
Pisa goes on, and the revolt only spreads a little to our other
towns, it is not only our silver dishes that are likely to go ; I
doubt whether Antonio's silver saints round the altar of San
■'Giovanni will not some day vanish from the eyes of the
faithful to be worshi]>ped more devoutly in the form of coin."
" The Frate is preparing us for that already," said Torna-
buoni. "He is telling the people that God will not have
silver crucifixes and starving stomachs ;^ and that the church
is best adorned with the gems of holiness and the fine gold
of brotherly love."
"A very useful doctrine of war-finance, as many a Condot«
30G ROMOLA.
ticre has found," said J^ernardo Kiicellai, dryly "But poll«
tics fODic oil attiT the roiifdtl^ Lorcn/o, wIk'ii wc cau drink
wine eiiougli to wasli llic'n\ down ; tlicy are too solid to be
taken with roast and boiletL''
''Yv^, indeed," said Niccolo IJidolfi. "Our Lui^i Pule
would have said this delicate boiled kitl must be eaten with
an iin|)artial mind. I remember one day at C'aretrgi, whea
Lul^^i was in Ids rattling vein, he was maiiitainiiig that noth-
ing perverted the palate like o])inioii. ' Opinion,' said he,
'(Corrupts the saliva — that's why men took to ])epper. Skep-
ticism is the only philosophy that doesn't brin<4 a taste in
the mouth.' ' Nay,' says poor Lorenzo de' Meclici, ' you nuist
be out there, Luigi. Here is this untainted skej)tie, ^latteo
Franco, who wants hotter sauce than any of us.' 'Because lie
has a strong opinion o^ hhnself\^ flashes out Luigi, ' which is
tlie oriijiiuil ^^y^]* of all other opinion. Jfc a skeptic? lb;
believes in the immortality of his own verses. He is such a
logician as that preaching friar who described the pavement
of the bottondess ]»it.' Poor Luigi ! his mind was like sharp-
est steel, that can touch nothing without cutting."
" And yet a very gentle-hearted creature," said Giannozzo
Pucci. "It seemed to me Ids talk was a mere blowing of
soap-bubbles. What dithyrambs he went into about eating
and driukiiig ! and yet hv was as temperate as a butterfly."
The light talk and the solid eatables were not soon at an
end; forafter the roast and boiled meats came the indispen-
sable cai)on and game, and, crowning glory of a Avell-spiead
table, a peacock cooked according to the recipe of A))icius for
cooking ])artridges, namely, with the feathers on, but not
phicked alu-rwards, as that great authority ordered concern-
ing his partiidges; on the eontiary, so disposed on the dish
that it might look as iiuk li as possible like a live ])cacoek
takiii<^ its uidioilcd r(']i(>sc'. (Ireat was the skill recpnred in
that conlideutial si'rvant who was the oflicial carvi'i', resix'cl-
fuUy to turn the classical though insipid bird on its back, and
expose the ))lucked breast from which he was to dispense a
delicate slice to each of the honorable company, unless any
one should be of so iudepejident a mind as to decline that ex-
pensive toughness, and prefer the vulgar digestibility of
capon.
Hardly any one was so bold. Tito quoted Horace, and
dispersed^ liis slice in small particles over his plate ; Bernardo
liucellai made a learned f)bservation about tlie ancient price
of ])eacocks' eggs, but did not ])retend to eat his slice; and
Niccolo Bidolli held a mouthful on Ins fnk while he told a
favorite story of Luigi J'ulci's about a muu of Siena, wlio,
KOMOLA. 307
wanting to give a splendid entertainment at moderate ex-
peuoe, bought a wild goose, cut oft* its beak and webbed feet,
and boiled it in its feathers, to pass for a pea-hen.
Ill tact very little peacock was eaten; but there was the
satisfaction of sitting at a table where peacock was served up
in a remarkable manner, and of knowing that such caprices
were not within reach of any but those who suj^ped with the
very wealthiest men. And it Avould have been rashness to
speak slightingly of peacock's llesh, or any other venerable
institution at a time when ¥rn Girolamo was teaching the dis-
turbing doctz-hie vhat it Avas not the duty of tlie rich to be
luxurious for tlie sake of the poor.
Meanwiiile, ia the chill obscurity that surrounded this cen-
tre of warmth, and light, and savory odors, the lonely disown-
ed man was walking in gradually narrowing circuits. He
paused among the trees, and looked in at the windows, which
made brilliant pictures agaiuist the gloom. He could hear
the laughter; he could see Tito gesticulating with careless
grace, and hear his voice, now alone, now mingling in the
merry confusion of interlacing speeches. Baldassarre's mind
Avas highly strung. He was preparing himself for the mo-
ment when he could win his entrance into this brilliant com-
pany; and he had a savage satisfaction in the sight of Tito's
easy gayety, which seemed to be preparing the unconscious
victim for more eftective torture.
But the men seated among the branching tapers and the
flashing cups could know nothing of the pale fierce face that
watched them from without. The light can be a curtain as
well as tlie darkness.
And the talk went on with more eagerness as it became
less disconnected and trivial. The sense of citizenship was
just then strongly forced even on the most indififerent minds.
What the overmastering Fra Girolamo Avas saying and
prompting was really uppermost in the thoughts of every one
at table; and before the stewed fish was removed, and Avhile
the favorite sweets were yet to come, his name rose to the
surface of the conversation, and, in spite of Rucellai's previous
prohibition, the talk again became political. At first, Avhile
the servants remained ]n-esent, it was mere gossip : what had
been done in the palazzo on this first day's voting for the
Gi'eat Council; how hot-tempered and domineering Frances-
co Valori was, as if lie were to liave every thing his own way
by right of his austere virtue ; and how it was clear to every
boJy who heard Soderini's speeches in fovor of the Great
Council, and also heard the Frate's sermons, that they were
both kneaded in the same trough.
30H UOMOLA.
" ]My opinion is," said Niccolo liitlolfi, " tliat tho Fratc liaa
a loiiLjcT licad tor |»ul)lic inattris tliaii Sodt'iini or any J'la-
f/noiif anH>.ng tliL-ui : you may di-pi-nd on it that Sodcrini is liiti
mouth-piece more than he is Soderini's."
"No, Niccolo; tliere I ditt'er from you," said Bernardo
]{iH'ellai : " tlie Frate luis an acute nund, and readily sees
what will servo his own ends: but it is not likely that Pa-
golantonio Soderini, Avho has liad long experience of aftairs,
and lias s])ecially studied the \'eiietian ('ouncil, should be
much indebted to a monk Ibr ideas on that suljject. No,
no : Soderini loads the cannon ; though, I grant you, Fra
Girolamo brings the powder and lights the match, lie is
master of the jjcojde, and the ])eoi)le are getting nuister t)f us.
Ecco !"
" Well," said Lorenzo Tornabuoni, presently, Avhcif the
room was clear of servants, and nothing but wine was ])assing
round,'" whither Soderini is indebted or not, wc' are indebted
to the Pirate for the general amnesty which has gone along
with the scheme of the Council. AVe might have dune with-
out the fear of God and the reform of morals being passed by
a majority of black beans ; but that excellent proposition,
that our Mediccan heads should be allowed to remain com-
fortably on our shoidders, and that we sbould not be obliged
to hand over our ])roperty in fines, has my warn! a))proval,
and it is my belief that nothing but tlie Frate's predominance
could have ]»rocurcd that for us. And you may rely on it
that Fi-a Girolamo is as firm as a rock on that i)oint of })ro-
moting peace. 1 have had an intervicAV with him."
Tiiere was a murmur of surprise and curiosity at the far-
ther end of the table; but Hernardo Ivucellai simply noder-
fectly well what other ])arty would be u]i]M'rmost just now:
Nerli, Albiz/i, I'az/.i, and the rest — .trr'i/>/>/"ff\ as somebody
christened them the other day — who, instead of giving us an
ROMOLA. 309
amnesty, would be inclined to fly at our throats like mad
clogs, and not be satisfied till they had banished half of us."
There Avere strons; interjections of assent to this last sen-
tence of Tornabuoui's as he paused and looked round a mo-
ment.
"A wise dissimulation," he went on, " is the only course for
moderate rational men in times of violent party feeling. I
need hardly tell this company what are my real political at-
tachments : I am not the only man here who has strong per-
sonal ties to the banished family ; but, apart from any such
ties, I agree with my more experienced friends, who are allow-
ing me^o speak for them in their presence, that the only last-
ing and peaceful state of things for Florence is the predomi-
nance of some single family interest. This theory of the
Frate's, that we are to have a popular government, in which
every man is to strive only for the general good, and know
no party names, is a theory that may do for some isle of
Cristoforo Colombo's finding, but will never do for our fine
old quarrelsome Florence. A change must come before long,
and Avith patience and caution we have every chance of de-
termining the change in our favor. Meanwhile, the best
thing we can do wiltbe to keep the Frate's flag flying, for if
any other were to be hoisted just now it Avould be a black
flag for us."
"" It's true," said Kiccolo Ridolfi, in a curt, decisive way,
" WTiat you say is true, Lorenzo. For my own part, I am too
old for any body to believe that I've changed my feathers.
And there are certain of us — our old Bernardo del Nero for
one — whom you Avould never persuade to borrow another
man's shield. But we can lie still like sleepy old dogs ; and
it's clear enough that barking would be of no use just now.
As for this psalm-singing party, who vote for nothing but the
glory of God, and want to make believe we can ail love each
other, and talk as if vice could be swept out Avith a besom
by the Magnificent Eight, their day Avill not be a long one.
After all the talk of scholars, there are but two sorts of gov-
ernment : one where men show their teeth at each other, and
one where men show their tongues and lick the feet of the
strongest. They'll get their Great Council finally voted to-
morrow — that's certain enough — and they'll think thcv've
found out a new plan of government ; but as sure as there s
a human skin under every lucco in the Council, their new plan
will end like every other, in snarling or in licking. That's
my view of things as a j)lain man. Xot that I consider it be-
coming in men of family and following, who have got others
depending on their constancy and on their sticking to their
310 ROMOLA.
coioi"s, to rjo n Inintihi? with a fine net to catch reasons in
the air, likf doctors of hiw. I say iraiikly that, as tlie head
of my lliniily, I shall be true to my old alliaiu-cs 5^ and I have
never yet seen any chalk-mark on political reasons to tell me
whitli is true and which is false. My friend IJernardo liu-
cellai here is a man of reasons, 1 know, and Tve no objection
to any body's finding fine-spun reasons for me, so that they
don't interfere with my actions as a man of lamily who hns
jiiith to keep witli his connections."
"If that is an ai)peal to me, Niccolo," said ]>ernardo Ku-
cellai, with a f(jrmal ilignity, in amusing contrast with Ki-
dolfi's curt and i)ithy ease, " I may take this opportunity of
saying, that while my wishes are i)artly deti'rmined by long-
standing ])ersonal relations, I can not enter into any positive
schemes witli persons over Avhose actions I have no control.
I myself might be content with a restoration of the old onler
of things; i)ut with modifications — with imjiortant moilitica-
tions. And tlie one ))oint on which 1 wish to declare my con-
currence Avith Lorenzo Tornabuoni is, that the best policy to
be ])ursue(l by our friends is to throw the weight of their in-
terest into the scale of the popular party. For myself, 1 con-
descend to no dissimulation ; nor do I at present see the ])ar-
ty or the scheme that commands my full assent. In all alike
there is crudity and confusion of ideas, and of all the twenty
men who are my colleagues in the ])resent crisis, there is not
one with whom I do not find myself in wide disagreement."
Kiccolo IJidoIfi shrugged his shoulders, and left it to some
one else to take u]) the ball. ^Vs the wine went round the
talk became more and more frank and lively, and the desire
of several at once to be the chief sjieaker, as usual caused the
company to break up into small knots of two and three. It
was a result which had been ibreseen by Lorenzo Toi'n.abuoni
and (iiannozzo Pucci, and they were among the first to turn
aside irom the high road of general talk, and enter into a
spi'cial conversation with Tito, who sat between them; gratl-
nally ]»ushing away their seats, and turning tlieir backs on
the table and wini'.
"In truth, ^lelema," Tornabuoni was saying at this stage,
laying one hose-clad leg across the knee of the other, and ca-
ressing his ankle, "I know of no man in Florence who can
serve our party better than you. You see Avhat most of our
I'riends are: men who can lu) more hide their ])rejudices than
a dog can hiaity, 7'/7o //#/o," said
Giamiozzo l*ucci, who was more fraternal ;uid less itatroiiiz-
ing in his manners than Tornabuoni, " I could have M'ished
your skill to have been employed in another M-ay, for which
it is still better fitted. But now we must look out for some
other man among us who Avill manage to get into the confi-
dence of our sworn enemies, tlie Arrabbiati; we need to
know their movements mure than those of the Frate's ]iarty,
who are strong enough to i)lay aboveboard. Still it would
liave been a difticult^thing for you, from your known rela-
tions with the Medici a little while back, and that sort of kin-
ship your wife has with Bernardo del Ner(». We must find
a man who has no distinguished connections, and who has
not vet taken any side."
Tito was pushing his hair back automatically, as his man-
ner was, and looking straiglit at I'ucci with a scarcely i)er-
ceptible smile on his lip.
" No need to look out for any one else," he s.aid, prom[.t-
ly ; " I can manage the whole business with |)erfect ease. I
will enirage to make myself the s]K'cial confidant of that thick-
headef his life
EOMOLA. 3^3
Our lives make a moral tradition for our individual selves,
as the life of mankind at large makes a moral tradition foi
the race ; and to have once acted greatly seems to make a
reason why we should always be noble. But Tito was feeU
ing the effect of an opposite tradition ; he had won no mem-
ories of self-conquest and perfect faithfulness from which he
could have a sense of falling.
The triple colloquy went on with growing spirit till it was
interrupted by a call from the table. Probably the move-
ment came from the listeners in the party, who were afraid
lest the talkers should tire themselves. At all events, it was
agreed that there had been enough gravity, and Rucellai had
just ordered new flasks of Montepulciano.
" How many minstrels are there among us ?" he said,
when there had been a general rallying round the table.
"Melema, I think you are the chief: Matteo will give you
the lute."
" Ah, yes !" said Giannozzo Pucci, " lead the last chorus
from Poliziano's Orfeo, that you have found such an excellent
measure for, and we will all iall in :
'5
Ciascnn segua, o Bacco, te ;
Bacco, Bacco, evoe, evoe !"
The servant put the lute into Tito's hands, and then said
something in an under-tone to his master, A little subdued
questioning and answering Avent on between them, while
Tito touched the lute in a preluding way to the sti-ain of the
chorus, and there was a confusion of speech and musical hum-
ming all round the table. Bernardo Rucellai had said, " Wait
a moment, Melema ;" but the words had been unheard by Tito,
who was leaning towards Pucci, and singing low to him the
plirases of the Ma^nad-choi-us. He noticed nothing until the
buzz round the table suddenly ceased, and the notes of his
own voice, with its soft, low-toned triumph, "Evoe, evoe !"
fell in startling isolation.
It was a strange moment. Baldassarre had moved round
the table till he was opposite Tito, and as the hum ceased
there might be seen for an instant Baldassarre's fierce dark
eyes bent on Tito's bright smiling unconsciousness, Avhile the
low notes of triumph dropped from his lips into the silence.
Tito looked up with a slight start, and his lips turned
l)ale, but he seemed hardly more moved than Giannozzo
Pucci, who had looked up at the same moment — or even
than several others round the table ; for that sallow, deep^
lined face with the hatred in its eyes seemed a terrible ap
parition across the wax-lit ease and gayety. And Tito quick
14
8 1 4 KOMOLA.
iy rccovcrcfl sonio self-command. "A mad old man — no
looks like it — lii' /.v mad !" was the iiistaiitaiice. And he g.ithered confidence fiom
the agitation by which Baldassarre was evidently shaken.
He had ceased to pinch the neck of the lute, and had thrust
his thumbs into his l)elt, while his li]is had begun to assume
a slight curl. He had never yet done an act of murderous
cruelty even to the smallest animal that could utter a cry,
but at that moment he would have been caj)able of treading
the breath from a smiling child for the sake of his own safety.
" What does this mean, Melema?" said Bernardo Bucellai,
in a tone of cautious surprise. He, as well as the rest of tho
^EOMOLA. 315
company, felt relieved that the tenor of the accusation was
not political.
" Messer Bernardo," said Tito, " I believe this man is mad.
I did not recognize him the first time he encountered me in
Florence, but I knoAV now that he is the servant who years
ago accompanied me and my adoptive father to Greece, and
was dismissed on account of misdemeanors. His name is
Jacopo di Xola. Even at that time I believe his mind was
unhinged, for, without any reason, he had conceived a strange
hatred towards me ; and now I am convinced that he is labor-
ing under a mania which causes him to mistake his identity.
He has already attempted my life since he has been in Flor-
ence, and I am in constant danger from him. But he is an
object of pity rather than of indignation. It is too certain
that my father is dead. You have only my word for it ; but
I must leave it to your judgment how far it is probable that
a man of intellect and learning would have been lurking
about in dark corners for the last month with the piirpose of
assassinating me ; or how far it is probable that, if this man
were my second father, I could have any motive for denying
him. That story about my being rescued from beggary is
the vision of a diseased brain. But it will be a satisfaction
to me at least if you Avill demand from him proofs of his iden-
tity, lest any malignant person should choose to make this
mad impeachment a reproach to me."
Tito had felt more and more confidence as he went on :
the lie was not so difiicult when it was once begun ; and as
the words fell easily from his lips, they gave him a sense of
power such as men feel when they have begun a muscular
feat successfully. In this way he acquired boldness enough
to end with the challenge for proofs.
Baldassarre, Avhile he had been walking in the gardens,
and afterwards waiting in an outer room of the pavilion with
the servants, had been making anew the digest of the evi-
dence he Avould bring to prove his identity and Tito's base-
ness, recalling the description and history of his gems, and as-
suring himself by rapid mental glances that he could attest
his learning and his travels. It might be partly owing to
this nervous strain that the new shock of rage that he felt as
Tito's lie fell on his ears brought a strange bodily eftect with
it; 3 cold stream seemed to rush over him, and the last words
of the speech seemed to be drowned by ringing chimes.
Thouglit gave way to a dizzy horroi", as if the earth were
slipping away from under him. Every one in the room was
looking at him as Tito ended, and saw that the eyes which
had had such fierce intensity only a few minutes before had a
316 KOMOLA.
vai^ue fear in them. lie clutclied the back of a seat, and was
Bik'Jit.
Hardly any evidence could have been more in favor of
Tito's assertion.
"Surely I have seen this man before, somewhere," said
Tornabuoni.
" Certainly you have," said Tito, readily, in a low tone.
"lie is tne escaped prisoner who clutched me on tlu; stej)9
of the Duomo. I did not recognize him then ; he looks now
more as he used to do, except that he has a more unmistaka-
ble air of mad imbecility."
" I cast no doubt on your word, ]\Ielema," said Bernardo
Ruccllai, with cautious gravity ; "but you are right to desire
some ])ositive test of the fact." Then turning to iialdassarre,
he said, " If you are the person you claim to be, you can doubt-
less give some description of the gems which were your proj>
erty. I myself was the purchaser of more than one gem Irom
Messer Tito — the chief rings, I believe, in his collection. One
of them is a fine sard, engraved Avith a subject from Homer.
If, as you allege, you are a scholar, and the rightful owner of
that ring, you can doubtless turn to the noted 2>assage in Ho-
mer froni Avhich that subject is taken. Do you accept this
test, Melcma ? or have you any thing to allege against its
validity ? The Jacopo you speak of, was he a scholar ?"
It was a fearful crisis for Tito. If he said "Yes," Ids
quick mind told him that he would shake the credibility of
liis story : if he said "No," he risked every thing on the un-
certain extent of Baldassarre's imbecility. But there was no
noticeable pause before he said, " No. I accept tlie test."
There was a dead silence while Kucellai moved towards tlie
recess where the books were, and came back with the fine
P^lorentine Homer in his hand. Jialdassarrc, when he was ad-
dressed, had turned his head towards the speaker, and Rucellai
believed that he hait:uit business of yours. You
shall have all justice. Follow me into a private room."
lialdassarre was still in that half-stunned state in which
he was susceptible to any proni])tin'^f, in the same way as an
insect, that forms no conception of what the prompting leads
to. lie rose from his seat, and followed Kucellai out of the
room.
In two or three minutes Rucellai came back again, and
said :
"He is safe under lock and key. Piero Pitti, you are one
of the ^Magnificent Eight; what do you think of our sending
Matteo to the palace for a couple of sbirri,y,ho may escort
him (o the Stinche?* If there is any danger in liim, as I
think ihere is, he will be safe there ; and we can inquire about
him to-morrow."
Pitti assented, and the order was given.
"He is certainly an ill-looking fellow," said Tornabuoni.
"And you say he lias attempted your life already, Melema V"
And the talk turned on the various forms of madness, and
the fierceness of the southern blood. If the seeds of conjec-
ture unfavorable to Tito had been planted in the mind of any
one present, they were hardly strong enough to grow without
the aid of much daylight and ill-will. The common-looking,
wild-eyed old man, clad in serge, might have won In-lief with-
out very strong evidence, if he had accused a man who was
envied and disliked. As it was, the only congruous and prob-
able view of the case seemed to be the one that sent the un-
pleasant accuser safely out of sight, and left the pleasant,
serviceable Tito just where he was before.
The subject gradually floated away, and gave place to
others, till a heavy tramp, and something like the struggling
of a man who was beinii- drasitred awav, were heaid outside,
riie sounds soon died out, and tlie interruj»tit)n seemed to
make the last hour's conviviality more resolute and vigorous.
Every one was -willing to Ibrget a disagreeable incident.
Tito's heart Avas j)alpitating, and the wine tasted no bet-
tor to him than if it had been blood.
To-night he liad paid a heavier ])rice than ever to make
himself sal'c. He did not like the j)rice, and yet it was inevi-
table that he sliould be glad of the ])urchase.
Ami afti-r all he led the chorus. lie was in a state of ex-
citement in which oppi-essivi' sensations, and the wretched
consciousness of something hateful but irrevocable, were min*
* The largest prison in Florence.
■KOMOLA. 319:
gled with a feeling of triumph which seemed to assert itself
as the feeling that would subsist and be master of the mor«
row.
And it was master. For on the morrow, as we saw, when
he was about to start on his mission to Rome, he had the air
of a man well satisfied with the world.
CHAPTER XL.
AN ARRESTING VOICE.
When Romola sat down on the stone under the cypress, all
things conspired to give her the sense of freedom and soli-
tude : her escape from the accustomed walls and streets ; the
widening distance from her husband, who was by this time
riding toward Siena, while every hour would take her farther
on the opposite way ; the morning stillness ; the great dip of
ground on the road-side making a gulf between her and the
sombre calm of the mountains. For the first time in her life
she felt alone in the presence of the earth and sky, with no
liuman presence interposing and making a law for her.
Suddenly a voice close to her said,
" You are Romola de' Bardi, the wife of Tito Melema."
She knew the voice : it had vibrated through her more than
once before ; and because she knew it she did not turn round
to look up. She sat shaken by awe, and yet inwardly rebelling
against the awe. It was one of those black-skirted monks who
was daring to speak to her, and interfere with her privacy :
that was all. And yet she was shaken, as if that destiny which
men thought of as a sceptred deity had come to her and grasp-
ed her with fingers of fiesh.
" You are fleeing from Florence in disguise. I have a com-
mand from God to stop you. You are not permitted to
flee."
Romola's angei' at the intrusion mounted higher at these
imperative words. She would not turn round to look at the
speaker, whose examining gaze she resented. Sitting quite
motionless, she said,
" What right have you to speak to me, or to hinder me ?"
" The right of a messenger. You have ])ut on a religious
garb, and you have no religious purpose. You have sought
the garb as a disguise. But you Avere not suffered to pass
me without being discerned. It was declared to me who you
were : it is declared to me that you are seeking to escape
from the lot God has laid upon you. You wish your truo
320 UOMOLA.
name and your true plaoo in life to be lnilut
who is so base as the debtor that thinks himself free?"
There was a sting in those words, and Komola's countenance
changed as if a subtle ])ale ilash had gone over it.
"And you are flying from your debts: the debt of a Flor«
entino woman ; the debt of a wife. You are turning yoiuf
ROMOLA. 32]
back on the lot that has been appointed for you — you are go-
ing to choose another. But can man or woman choose duties ?
No more than they can choose their birth-phice, or their fa-
ther and mother. My daugliter, you are fleeing from the
presence of God into the wilderness."
As the anger melted from Romola's mind, it had given place
to a new presentiment of the strength there might be in sub-
mission, if this man, at whom she was beginning to look with
a vague reverence, had some valid law to show her. But no
— it was impossible ; he could not know what determined her.
Yet she could not again simply refuse to be guided ; she was
constrained to plead ; and in her new need to be reverent while
she resisted, the title which she had never given him before
came to her lips without forethought,
" My father, you can not know the reasons which compel
me to go. None can know them but myself. None can judge
for me. I have been driven by great sorrow. I am resolved
to go."
" I know enough, my daughter : my mind has been so far
illuminated concerning you that I know enoiigh. You are not
happy in your married life ; but I am not a confessor, and I
seek to know nothing that should be reserved for the seal of
confession. I have a divine warrant to stop you, which does
not depend on such knowledge. You were warned by a mes-
sage from heaven, delivered in my presence — you were warned
before marriage, when you might still have lawfully chosen to
be free from the marriage bond. But you chose the bond ;
and in willfully breaking it — I speak to you as a pagan, if the
holy mystery of matrimony is not sacred to you — you are
breaking a pledge. Of what wrongs will you complain, my
daughter, when you yourself are committing one of the great-
est wrongs a v;oman and a citizen can be guilty of — withdraw-
ing in secrecy and disguise from a pledge which you have
given in the face of God and your fellow-men ? Of what
wrongs will you complain, when you yourself are breaking the
simplest law that lies at the foundation of the trust Avhich binds
man to man — faithfulness to the spoken Avord ? This, then, is
the wisdom yoii have gained by scorning the mysteries of the
Church ? — not to see the bare duty of integrity, where the
Church would have taught you to see, not integrity only, but
religion."
The blood had rushed to Romola's face, and she shrank aa
if she had been stricken. " I would not have put on a disguise,"
she began ; but she could not go on — she was too much shakeq
by the suggestion in the Frate's Avords of a possible affinity bfy
tween her own conduct and Tito'f?,
322 aoMOLA.
" And to break tliat pledge you fly from Florence — Florence,
where there are the only men and women in the world to whom
you owe the debt of a fi-llow-eiti/.i'ii."
" I should never have c]uiited Florence," said Roniola, trem«
ulously, " as long as there was any hope of my fultilling a duty
to my father there."
" And do you own no tie but that of a cliild to her father
in the llesh V Your life has been sj)ent in blindness, my daugh-
ter. You have lived with those who sit on a hill aloof, and
look down on the life of their fellow-men. I know their vain
discourse. It is of what has been in the times which they fill
with their own fancied wisdom, while they scorn God's work
in the present. And doubtless you were taught how there
were pagan women who felt what it was to live for the re]iub-
lic; yet you have never felt that you, a Florentine woman,
should live for P'lorence. If your own people are wearing a
yoke, will you slip from under it, insteail of struggling with
them to ligliten it? Tliere is hunger and misery in our streets,
yet you say, ' I care not ; I have my own sorrows ; I will go
away, if peradventure I can ease them.' The servants of God
are struggling after a law of justice, jieace, and charity, that
the luuidred thousand citizens among whom you were born
may be governed righteously ; but you think no more of that
than if you were a bird, that may spread its wings and tly
whither it will in search of ioad to its liking. And yet you have
scorned the teaching of the Church, my daughter. As if you,
a willful wanderer, following your own blind choice, were not
below the humblest Florentine; woman who stretches forth her
hands with her own jieople, and craves a blessing for them;
ane«
^iimiiiLC. JKtc in Fli>r<.'iice il is l>t'giiiiiiii^, and the eyes ci
faith behohl it. And it may be our blesse)ernnclo
contaiiiiii!^ ihe iniiaciiloiis liiddeii iiiiULre IkkI been brout^ht
-vvilli high :iiid reverend eseort from L'lniprunetajtlie privileged
spot six miles beyond tlie gate of San Piero that looks towards
l\onu', and had been deposited in the ehnrch of San Oaggio,
outside the gate, whence it was to be fetched in solenni pro-
cession by all the fraternities, trades, and authorities of B'lor-
snce.
But the ritving Mother had not yet entered within the
walls, and the morning arose on unchanged misery and de-
spondency. Pestilence was hovering in the track of famine.
Not only the liospitals Averefull, l)ut the court-yards of i)rivatc
houses had been turned into refuges and iniirmaries ; and still
there was unsheltered want. And early this morning, as usual,
members of the various fraternities who made it part of their
duty to bury the unfriended dead were bearing away the
corpses tliat had sunk by the wayside. As usual, sweet wom-
anly forms, with the refined air and carriage of the well-born,
but in the jilainest garb, were moving about the streets on
their daily errands of tending the sick and relieving the
liungry.
One of these forms was easily distinguishable as Romola
de' Bardi. Clad in the simplest garment of black serge, Avith
a plain j^iece of black diai)ery drawn over her head, so as to
hide all her hair, except the bands of gold that rippled apart
on her brow, she was advancing from the Ponte Vecchio to-
wards the Por' Santa Maria — the street in a direct line with
the bridge — when she found her Avay obstruc1,ed by the paus-
ing of a bier, which was being carried by members of the
coinpanvof San .Tacopo del Popolo, in search for the unburied
dead. The brethren at the head of the bier were stooping to
examine something, while a group of idle workmen, with fea-
tures paled and siiarpened by hunger, were clustering round
and .all talking at once.
"lie's dead, I tell you! Messer Domencddio has loved
him well enough to take him,"
" All, and it would be well for us all if we could have our
legs stretched out and go with our heads two or three }>ra('cl
foVemost! It's ill standing upright with hunger to prop
you."
"Well, well, he's an old fellow. Death has got a poor
bargain. T/ifc's had the best of him."
"And no Florentine, ten to one ! A beggar turned out of
Siena. San (Giovanni defend us ! They've no need of soldiers
to light us. They send us an army of starving men."
"No.no ! This man is one of the prisoners turned out of
ROM OLA. 333
the Stinche. I know by the gray patch where the i^rison
badge was,"
" Keep quiet ! Lend a hand ! Don't you see the brethren
are going to lift him on the bier !"
" It's hkely he's ahve enough if he could only look it. The
soul may be inside him if it had only a drop of vernaccia to
warm it."
" In truth, I think he is not dead," said one of the brethi'en,
when they had lifted him on the bier. "He has perhaps only
sunk down for want of food,"
" Let me try to give him some wine," said Romola, coming
forward. She loosened the small flask which she carried at
her belt, and, leaning towards the prostrate body, with a deft
hand she applied a small ivory implement between the tectli,
and poured into the mouth a few drops of wine. The stimulus
acted : the wine was evidently swallowed. She poured more,
till the head was moved a little towards her, and the eyes of
the old man opened full upon her with the vague look of re-
turning consciousness. Then for the first time a sense of
complete recognition came over Romola, Those wild dark
eyes opening in the sallow deep-lined face, with the white
beard, which was now long again, were like an unmistakable
signature to a remembered handwriting. The light of two
summers had not made that image any fainter in Romola's
memory : the image of the escaped prisoner, whom she had
seen in the Duomo the day when Tito first wore the armor — at
whose grasp Tito was paled with terror in the strange sketch
she had seen in Fiero's studio, A wretched tremor and palpita-
tion seized her. Now at last, perhaps, she was going to know
some secret wliich miglit be more bitter than all that had gone
before. She felt an impulse to dart away as from some sight
of horror; and again, a more imperious need to keep close by
the side of this old man whom, the divination of keen feeling
told her, her husband had injured. In the very instant of this
conflict she still leaned towards him and kept her right hand
ready to administer more wine, while her left was passed under
his neck. Her hands trembled, but their habit of soothing
helpfulness would have served to guide them without the di-
rection of her thought.
Baldassarre was looking at her for the first time. The
close seclusion in which Romola's trouble had kept her in the
weeks preceding her flight and his arrest had denied him the
opportunity he had sought of seeing 'the Wife who lived in
the Via de' Bardi ; and at this moment the descriptions he
had heard of the fair, golden-haired woman were all gone, like
yesterday's waves.
334 UOMOLA.
" \V'ill it not l)c AvcU to carry liim to the stops of San Sto
fano ?" said lioniola. '"Wo .shall cease tiicn to stop up the
strt.'ct, and you can go on your way with your bior."
They had only to move onward for about thirty yards be-
fore reaching the steps of San Stefano, and by this time Bal-
dassarre was able liimself to make some efforts towards get-
ting off the bier, and propj)iiig himself on the steps against
the church doorway. The charitable brethren passed on, but
the group of interested spectators, who had notliing to do and
much to say, had considerably increased. The feeling towards
the olil man was not so entirely friendly now it was rehended her
meaning. She <)])eiied her basket, which was filled with pieces
of soft bread, anut when she api)roached the meeting of the roads where
Pthe I'or' Santa Maria would be on her right hand and the
Ponte Vecchio on her left, she found herself involved in a
crowd who suddenly fell on their knees; and she immediately
knelt with them. The Cross was passing — the (ireat Cross
of the Duonu> — which headed the j)rocession. liomola was
later than she had expected to be, and now she must wait till
the procession had passed. As she rose from lier knees, wheu
EO'MOLA, 337
the Cross had disappeared, the return to a standing posture,
*vith nothing to do but gaze, made her more conscious of her
fatigue than she had been while she had been walking and oc-
cupied. A shop-keeper by her side said :
'* Madonna Komola, you will be weary of standing : Gian
Fantoni will be glad to give you a seat in his house. Here
is his door close at hand. Let me open it for you. What !
he loves God and the Frate as we do. His house is yours."
Roniola was accustomed now to be addressed in this frater-
nal Avay by ordinary citizens, whose faces wei-e familiar to her
from her having seen them constantly in the DuouiO. The
word " home " had come to mean, for her, less the house in
the Via de' Bardi, where she sat in frequent loneliness, than
the tOAvered circuit of Florence, where there was hardly a turn
of the streets at which she Avas not greeted with looks of ap-
peal or of friendliness. She was glad enough to pass through
the opened door on her right hand and be led by the frater-
nal hose-vender to an up-stairs window, Avhere a stout woman
with three children, all in the plain garb of Piaguoni, made a
place for her Avith much reverence above the bright hanging
draperies. From this corner station she could see, not only
the procession pouring in solemn slowness between the lines
of houses on the Ponte Yecchio, but also the river and the
Lung' Arno on towards the bridge of the Santa Trinitji.
In sadness and in stillness came the slow procession. Not
even a Availing chant broke the silent appeal for mercy : there
Avas only the tramp of footsteps, and the faint sweep of avooI-
len garments. They Avore young footsteps that Avere passing
when Romola first looked from the Avindow — a lono- train of
the Florentine youth, bearing high in the midst of them the
Avhite image of the youthful Jesus, Avith a golden glory above
his head, standing by the tall cross where the thorns and the
nails lay ready.
After that train of fresh beai'dless faces came the myste«
rious-looking Companies of Discipline, bound by secret rules
to self-chastisement, and devout praise, and special acts of pie-
ty ; all Avearing a garb Avhich concealed the Avhole head and
face except the eyes. Every one knew that these m}-¥terious
forms were Florentine citizens of various ranks, who might be
seen at ordinary times going about the business of the shop, the
counting-house, or the State ; but no member now Avas discern-
ible as son, husband, or father. They had dropped their per-
sonality, and Avalked as symbols of a common vow. Each
company had its c^lor and its badge, but the garb of all Avas a
complete shroud, and left no expression but that of fcliow-
ehip.
13
&38 ROMOLlie{l indiviiluals, in spik- of the eoiiiniun
tonsure and the common frock. First came a Avhite stream
of reformed Ik'nedietines ; and then a much longer stream of
the Frati Minori, or Franciscans, in that age all clad in gray,
■with the knotted cord round their waists, and some of tiiem
with the zoccoli, or wooden sandals, below their bare feet — per-
haps the most nmnerous order in Florence, owning many /cal-
lous members m ho loved mankind and hated the Dominicans.
And after the gray came the black of the Augustinians of !San
Spirito, with more cultured human faces above it — men who
had inherited the library of Boccaccio, and had made the most
learned company in Florence when learning was rarer ; then
the white over dark of the Carmelites ; and then again the
immixed black of the Servites, that famous Florentine order
founded by seven merchants Avho forsook their gains to adore
the Divine Mother.
And now the hearts of all on-lookers began to beat a little
faster, either with hatred or with love, for there was a stream
of black and white coming over the bridge — of black mantles
over white scapularies ; and every one knew that the Domini-
cans were coming. Those of Fiesole passed first. One black
mantle parted by white after another, one tonsured head after
another, and still expectation was suspended. They were very
coarse mantles, all of them, and many^ Avere threadbare, if not
ragged ; for the Prior of San Marco had reduced the fraterni-
ties under his rule to the strictest poverty and discipline. Hut
in the long line of black and white there was at last singled
out a mantle oidy a little mort' worn th»n the rest, with a ton-
sured head above it which might not have appeared sujiremely
remarkable to a stranger who had not seen it on bronze med-
als, with the sword of God as its obverse ; or surrounded by
an armed guard on the way to the Duomo; or transfigured by
the inward flame of the orator as it looked round on a rapt
multitude.
As the approach of Savonarola -was discerned, none dared
conspicuously to break the stillness by- a sound which would
rise above the solemn tramp of footstej)s and the faint sweep
of garments ; nevertheless his ear, as well as other ears, caught
a mingleil sound of low hissing that longed to be curses, and
murmurs tliat longed to be blessings. Perhaps it was the
sense that the hissing predominated which made two or three
of Ids disci])les in the foreground of the crowd, at tlie meet-
ing of the roads, fall on their knees as jf something divine
were passing. The movement of silent homage spread : it
went along the sides of the streets like a subtle shock, leav-
KOMOLA. 339
ing some unmoved, ^A'hile it made the most bend the knee and
bow the head. But the hatred, too, gathered a more intense
expression ; and as Savonarola passed up the Por' Santa Ma-
ria, Komola could see that some one at an upper Avindow spat
upon him.
Monks again — Frati Umihati, or Humbled Brethren, from
Ognissanti, with a glorious tradition of being the earliest work-
ers in the wool-trade ; and again more monks — Vallombrosan
and other varieties of Benedictines, reminding the instructed
eye by niceties of form and color that in ages of abuse, long
ago, reformers had arisen who had marked a change of spirit
by a change of gai-b ; till at last the sliaven crowns were at
an end, and there came the train of untonsured secular priests.
Then followed the twenty-one incorporated Arts of Florence
in long array, with their bannei-s floating above them in proud
declaration that the bearers had their distinct functions, from
the bakers of bread to the judges and notaries. And then all
the secondary officers of State, beginning with the less and
going on to the greater, till the line of secularities was broken
by the Canons of the Uuomo, carrying a sacred relic — the
veiy head, inclosed in silver, of San Zenobio, immortal bishop
of Jb'lorence, whose virtues Mere held to have saved the city
perhaps a thousand years before.
Here was the nucleus of the procession. Behind the relic
came the archbishop in gorgeous cope, with cano])y held above
him ; and after him the mysterious hidden Image — hidden
first by rich curtains of brocade inclosing an outer painted
tabernacle, but within this, by the more ancient tabei-nacle
which had never been opened in the menxory of living men, or
the fathers of living men. In that inner shrine was the imajre
of the Pitying Mother, found ages ago in the soil of L'lmpru-
neta, uttering a cry as the spade struck it. Hitherto the un-
seen Image had hardly ever been carried to the Duomo with-
out having rich gifts borne before it. There was no reciting
the list of pi-ecious offerings made by emulous men and com-
munities, especially of veils and curtains and mantles. But
the richest of all these, it was said, had been given by a poor
abbess and her nuns, who, having no money to buy materials,
wove a mantle of gold brocade with their prayers, embroidei'-
ed it and adorned it with their ]n-ayers, and, finally, saw their
work presented to the Blessed Virgin in the great Piazza by
tv\'o beautiful youths who spread out white wings and vanished
in the blue.
But to-day there were no gifts carried before the tabernacle :
no donations were to be given to-day except to the poor.
That had been the advice of Fra Girolamo, whose preaching
340 KOMOLA.
never insistccl on gifts to the invisible powers, but only on help
to visible need ; ami altars had been raisi'd at various points
in front of tlie ehurehes, on which the oblations for the poor
were deposited. Not even a torch was cai'ried. Surely the
hidden mother cared less for torches and brocarofouiid stillness; for the train of priests and
chaplains from L'Impruneta stirred no passion in the on-look-
ers. The procession was about to close with the Priors and
the Gonfaloniere ; the long train of companies and symbols,
which have their silent music and stir the mind as a chorus
stirs it, was ])assing out of sight, and now a faint yearning
hope was all that struggled with the accustomed despondency,
Komola, whose heart had l)een swelling, half with foreboding,
half with that enthusiasm of foUowship which the life of the
last two years had made as habitual to her as the conscious-
ness of costume to a vain and idle woman, gave a deep sigh, as
at the end of some long mental tension, and remaines, and stood bare-
headed in the presence of a rescue which liad come from out-
side the limit of their own power — from that region of trust
and resignation which has been in all ages called divine.
At last, as the signal was given to move forward, Tito said,
with a smile :
" I ought to say that any hose to be bestowed by the Mag-
nificent Signoria, in reward of these tidings, are due, not to
me, but to another man, who had ridden hard to bring them,
and would have been here in my place if his horse had not
broken down just before he reached Signa. Meo di Sasso
will doubtless be here in an hour or two, and may all the
more justly claim the glory of the messenger, because he has
had the chief labor and has lost the chief delight."
It was a graceful way of putting a necessary statement, and
after a word of reply from the Proposto, or spokesman of the
Signoria, this dignified extremity of the procession passed on,
and Tito turned his horse's head to follow in its train, while
the great bell of the Palazzo Vecchio was already beginning to
swing, and give a louder voice to the people's joy.
In that moment, when Tito's attention had ceased to be
imperatively directed, it might have been expected that he
would look round and recognize Romola : but he was appar*
342 ROMOI.A,
ently engafjod with his caj>,wliicli, now tlic eager people were
Icadini,' liis horse, he was able to seize and place on his head,
while iiis right hand was still encumbered with the olive-
branch. He had a becoming air of lassitude after his exer-
tions; and Komola, instead of making any effort to be recoo-.
nized by him, threw her black drapery over lier head again
and remained perfectly quiet. Yet she felt almost sure"lhat
Tito had seen her ; he had the power of seeing every thin<'
without seeming to see it. *
CILVPTEIi XLIV.
THE VISIBLE MADONNA.
The crowd liad no sooner passed onward than Iloniola
descended to the street, and hastened to the steps of San
Stefano. Cecco liad Ijcen attracted Avith the rest towards the
Piazza, and she found Baldassarre standing alone against the
church-door, with the horn cup in his hand, waiting for her.
There was a striking change in liim ; the blank, dreamy
glance of a halt-returned consciousness had yiven ])lace to a
fierceness wiiicli, as she advitnced and s])oke to him, Hashed
upon her as if she had been its object. It was the glance of
caged fury that sees its ])rey jiassing safe beyond the bars.
IJomola started as the glance was turned on hei-, but her
immediate thought was that he had seen Tito. And as she
felt the look of hatred grating on her, something like a hope
arose that this man might be the criminal, and that her hus-
band might nut have been guilty towards him. If she could
learn that now, by bringing Tito face to face with him, and
liave her mind set at rest !
"If yon will come with me," she said, " I can give you
shelter and food until you are quite rested and strong. VVill
you come V"
"Yes," said r>aldassarre ; "T shall be glad to get my
strength. I want to get my strength," he repeated, as if he
were muttering to himself rather than speaking to her.
'Come," she said, inviting him to walk by her side, and
taking the way by the Arno towards the Ponte Itubaconteas
the more private road.
" I think you are not a Florentine," she said, presently, as
they turned on to the l)ridge.
He looked round at her without speaking. His suspicious
caution was more strongly upon him than usual, just now
that the fog of confusion and oblivion was made denser by
KOMOLA. 343
•
bodily feebleness. But she was locking r.t liiin too, and there
was something in her gentle eyes wh.ch at last compelled
him to answei-^her. But he answered cautiously.
"' Ko, I am no Florentine ; I am a lonely man."
She observed his reluctance to speak to her, and dared not
question him further, lest he should desire to quit her. As
she glanced at him from time to time, her mind was busy with
thoughts which quenched the faint hope that there was noth-
ing painful to be revealed about her husband. If this old.
man had been in the wrong, where was the cause for dread
and secrecy ? They walked on in silence till they reached
the entrance into the Via de' Bardi, and Romoia noticed that
he turned and looked at her with a sudden movement as if
some shock had passed through him. A few moments after
she paused at the half-open door of the court, and turned to-
wards him.
" Ah !" he said, not waiting for her to speak, " you are his
wife."
" Whose wife ?" said Romoia, flushing and trembling.
It would liave been impossible for Baldassarre to recall
any name at that moment. The very force with Avhich the
image of Tito pressed upon him seemed to expel any verbal
sign. He made no answer, but looked at her with strange fix-
edness.
She opened the door wide and showed the court covered
with straw, on which lay four or five sick people, while some
little children crawled or sat on it at their ease — tiny pale
creatures, biting straws and gurgling.
" If you will come in," said Romoia, tremulously, " I will
find you a comfortable place, ancf bring you some more food."
"No, I will not come in," said Baldassarre. But he stood
still, arrested by the burden of impressions under which his
mind was too confused to choose a course.
" Can I do nothing for you ?" said Romoia. " Let me give
you some money that you may buy food. It will be more
plentiful soon."
She had put her hand into her scarsella as she spoke, and
held out her palm with several grossi in it. She purposely
offered him more than she would have given to any other
man in the same circumstances. He looked at the coins a lit-
tle while, and then said,
'J Yes, I will take them."
She poured the coins into his palm, and he grasped them
tightly.
^"Tell me," said Romoia, almost beseechingly. "What
sliall you — "
:^4{ KOMOLA.
But TxiM.issanv had tiiriicd awav from lior, and wap walk-
incf a^aiii towards tlie bridge. J'assiiig iVoiu it, straight on
u|» the Via dcd Fosso, he canii' ujjon the sliop of Aiccolo Ca-
j)arra, and turned towards it without a j)ause, as if it had been
tlie very object of his seareh. Niocoh!) was at tliat moment
in procession with the armorers of Florence, and there was
oidy one apprentice in the shoj). l>ut there were all sorts of
■weapons in abundance hangin;^ there, and Ixildassarre's eyes
discerned what he was more hungry for than lor bread.
Niccolo liimself would probably have refused to sell any
thing that migh.t serve as a weapon to this man with signs
of tlie ))rison on him; but the a))prentice, less ol)servant and
8cruj)ulous, took three f/i-os.ti for a sharj) hunting-knife with-
out any hesitation. It Avas a conveniently small weapouj
■which IJaUlassarre could easily thrust Mithin the breast of
his tunic ; and he walked on, feeimg stronger. That sharp
edge might give deadliness to the thrust of an aged arm : at
least it was a companion, it was a power in league with him,
even if it failed. It would break against armor; but was the
armor sure to be always there? In those long months while
vengeance had lain in prison, baseness had perhaps become
forgetful and secure. The knife had been bought with the
traitor's own money. That was just. Before he took the
money he had felt Avhat he should do with it — buy a weapon.
Yes, and if possible, food too: food to nourish the arm that
Avould grasp the weapon, food to nourish the body which was
the temple of vengeance. When he had had enough bread he
should be able to think and act — to think iirst how he could
hide himself, lest the traitor should have him dra'jfcrcMl away
again. With that idea of hiding in his mind Baldassarre
turned up the narrowest streets, bought himself some meat
and bread, and sat down under the first loggia to eat. The
bells that swung out louder and louder ])eals of joy, laying
hold of him and making him vibrate along with all the air,
seemed to him simply part of that strong world, which was
against him.
liomola had watched Baldassai'i'e until he had disappear-
ed round the turning into the Piazza de' Mozzi, half feeling
that his departure was a relief, half reproaching herself for
not seeking with more decision to know the truth about him,
for not assuring herself whether there were any giiiltless mis-
ery in his lot which she was not helpless to relieve. Yet
what could she have done if the truth har some more (lefiiiite vent to their
joy. If the Frate ouiiUl have stood up in the great I'iazza
and preached to them they might have been satisfied, but
now, in si)ite of the new discipline whieh di-elartMl Christ to
be the special King of the Florentines and required all pleas-
ures to be of a Christian sort, there was a secret longing in
i::any ofthc youngsters who shouted "A'iva (iesu!" lor a lit-
tle vigorous stone-throwing in sign of thankfulness.
Tito as he passed along coulil not escape being recognized
by some as the welcome bearer of the olive-branch, and could
only rid himself of an inconvenient ovation, chiefly in the
form of eager (piestions, by telling those who ])ressed on him
that Meo di Sasso, the true messenger from Leghorn, must
now be enterin of coarseness, and his eyes had that rutle desecrating
stare at all men and things which to a refined mind is as in-
tolerable as a bad odor or a flaring light.
Ife and his companions, also young men dressed expen-
ROMOLA. 351
sively and wearing arms, wci'e exchanging jokes with that
sort of ostentatious laughter which iraj^lies a desire to prove
that the laughter is not mortitied though some people might
suspect it. There were good reasons for such a suspicion ;
for this broad-shouldered man with the red feather was Dol-
fo Spini, leader of the Compaqnacci^ox Evil Companions —
that is to say, of all the dissolute young men belonging to
Ahe old aristocratic party, enemies of the Mediceans, enemies
of the popular government, but still more bitter enemies of
Savonarola. Dolfo Spini, heir of the great house with the
loggia, over the bridge of the Santa Trinita, had organized
these young men into an armed band, as sworn champions
of extravagant suppers and all the pleasant sins of the flesh,
against reforming pietists who threatened to make the world
chaste and temperate to so intolerable a degree that there
would soon be no reason for living, except the extreme un-
pleasantness of the alternative. Up to this very morning he
had been loudly declaring that Florence was given up to
famine and ruin entirely through its blind adherence to the
advice of the Frate, and that there could be no salvation for
Florence but in joining the League and driving the Frate out
of the city — sending him to Rome, in fact, Avhither he ought
to have gone long ago in obedience to the summons of the
Pope. It was suspected, therefore, that Messer Dolfo Spini's
heart was not aglow with pure joy at the unexpected suc-
cors, which had come in apparent fulfillment of the Frate's
prediction, and the laughter, which was ringing out afresh as
Tito joined the group at Xello's door, did not serve to dissi-
pate the suspicion. For leaning against the door-post in the
centre of the group was a close-shaven, keen-eyed personage,
named Niccolo Macchiavelli, Avho, young as he was, had pen-
etrated all the small secrets of egoism.
"Messer Dolfo's head," he was saying, "is more of a
pumpkin than I thought. I measure men's dullness by the
devices they trust in for deceiving others. Your dullest ani-
mal of all is he who grins and says he doesn't mind just af-
ter he has had his shins kicked. If I were a trifle duller
now," ho went on, smiling as the circle opened to admit Tito,
" I should pretend to be fond of this Melema, Avho has got a
secretaryship that would exactly suit me — as if Latin ill-paid
could love better Latin that's better paid ! Melema, you are
a pestiferously clever fellow, very much in my Avay, and I'm
sorry to hear you've had another piece of good luck to-day."
" Questionable luck, Xiccolo," said Tito, touching him on
the shoulder in a friendly way ; " I have got nothing by it
yet but being laid hold of and breathed upon by wool-beat-
352 ROMOLA.
ors, wbon T am as soiled nnd hattorod with riding as a tabel>
lario (IctttT-carricr) Ironi liulogiia."
"All ! you want a touch ot* my art, Messer Oratore," said
Nt'llu, who had come forward at the sound of Tito's voice;
" your chin, I perceive, has yesterday's crop ujion it. Come,
come — consiujn yourself to the priest of all the Pluses. San-
dro, quick with the lather!"
"In truth, Nello, that is just what T most desire at this m^
nu'iit,'" said Tito, seating himself; ''' and that was why I turn-
ed my steps towards thy shop, instead of going home at once,
when I had done my business at the Palazza."
" Yes, indeed, it is not fitting that you should present
yourself to ^lailouna liomola with a rusty chin and a tangled
Z'fzzera. Nothing that is not dainty ought to approach the
Florentine lily; though I see her constantly going about like
a sunbeam among the rags that line our corners — if indeed
she is not more like a moonbeam now, for I thought yester-
day, when I met her, that she looked as pale and worn as
that fainting ^Madonna of Fra Giovanni's. You must sec to
it, my bcl tnulito : she kee^is too many fasts and vigils in
your absence."
Tito gave a melancholy slirug. " Tt is too true, Xello.
She has been deitriving herself of half her proper food every
day during this iamine. But what can I do? Her mind-
has been set all aHame. A husband's influence is powerless
against the Frate's."
" As evei-y other influence is likely to be, that of the Holy
Fathi'r included," said Domenico Cennini,oneof the group at
the door who had turned in with Tito. " I don't know
whether you have gathered any thing at Pisa about the way
the wind sets at Home, Melema?"
" Secrets of the council chamber, IMesser Domenico !" said
Tito, smiling, and opening his ])alms in a dei)recatory man-
ner. "An envoy must be as dumb as a lather confessor."
" Certainly, certainly," said Cennini. " I ask for no breach
of that rule. Well, my belief is, that if his Holiness were to
drive Fra Girolamo to extremity, the Fiate would move
heaven arid earth to get a (General Council of the Church —
ay, and would get it too : and I, for one, should not be sor-
ry, though I'm no Piagnone."
" With leave of your greater experience, Messer Domeni-
co," said Macchiavelli, "1 must difler from you — not in your
wish to see a (TciuTal C'ouncil which might reform the Church,
but in your belief that the Frate will checkmate his Holiness.
Tiie Frate's game is an inijiossihle one. If lie had contented
himself with ])reaching against the vices of Rome, and with
ROMOLA. 353
prophesying that in some way, not mentioned, Italy woukl
he scourged, depend upon it Pope Alexander would have al-
lowed him to spend his breath in that way as long as ho
could find hearers. Such spiritual blasts as those knock no
walls down. But the Frate wants to be something more than
a spiritual trumpet : he wants to be a lever, and what is
more, he is a lever. He Avants to spread the doctrine of
Christ by maintaining a popular government in Florence, and
the Pope, as I know, on the best "authority, has private views
to the contrary."
" Then Florence will stand by the Frate," Cennini broke
in, with some fervor. " I myself should prefer that he would
let his prophesying alone, but if our freedom to choose our
own government is to be attacked— I am an obedient son of
the Church, but I would vote for resisting Pope Alexander
the Sixth, as our forefathers resisted Pope Gregory the
Eleventh."
" But pardon me, Messer Domenico," said Macchiavelli,
sticking his thumbs into his belt, and speaking with that cool
enjoyment of exposition which surmounts every other force
in discussion. " Have you correctly seized the Frate's posi-
tion ? How is it that he has become a lever, and made him-
self worth attacking by an acute man like his Holiness ? Be-
cause he has got the ear of the people : because he gives them
threats and promises, which they believe come straight from
God, not only about hell, pui-gatory, and paradise, but about
Pisa and our Great Council. But let events go against him,
so as to shake the people's faith, and the cause of his power
will be the cause of his fall. He is accumulating three sorts
of hatred on his head — the hatred of average mankind against
every one who wants to lay on them a strict yoke of virtue;
the hatred of the stronger powers in Italy, Avho Avant to farm
Florence for their own purposes ; and the hatred of the peo-
ple to whom he has ventured to promise good in this world,
instead of confining his promises to the next. If a prophet
is to keep his i)ower he must be a prophet like Mohammed,
with an army at his back, that when the people's faith is
fainting it may be frightened into life again."
" Rather sum up the three sorts of hatred in one," said
Francesco Cei, impetuously, " and say he has won the hatred
of all men who have sense and honesty, by inventing hypo-
critical lies. His proper place is among the false prophets
in the Inferno, who walk with their heads turned hind fore-
most."
" You are too angry, my Francesco," said Macchiavelli,
smiling ; " you poets are apt to cut the clouds in your wrath.
354 JtoMOLA.
I am no votary of tlio Prate's, and would not lay down my
littl(> tin!jc«'r lor his vi'racity. But voracity is a )»lant ofpar-
adist', ami the seeds liave never tlourishcd hcyoiid the walls.
You yourself, my Francesco, tell poetieal lies only ; partly
compelled by the ])oet's fervor, j)artly to ]ilease your audi-
ence; but you object to lies in prose. AVell, the Frate dif-
fers from you as to the boundary of poetry, that's all. When
he gets into the jndpit of the Duomo he has the fervor with-
in him, and without him he lias the audience to please.
Ecco r
"You are somewhat lax there, Niccolo," said Ccnnini,
gravely. "I myself believe in the Frate's integrity, though
1 don't believe in his prophecies ; and as long as his integri-
ty is not disproved we have a jiopular party strong enough
to protect him and resist foreign interference."
"A ])arty that seems strong enough," said ]\racchiavelli,
with a shrug, and an almost imi)erceptible glance towardsTito,
wdio was abandoning himself with much enjoyment to Nello's
combing and scenting. " But how many ^Nlediceans are there
among you ? How many who will not be turned round by
a private grudge?"
"As to the Mediceans," said Cennini, "I believe there is
very little genuine feeling left on behalf of the Medici. Who
would risk much foi- Piero de' Medici? A few old stanch
friends, perhaps, like Bernardo del Nero ; but even some of
those most connected with the family are hearty friends of
the popular government, and would exert themselves for the
Frate. I was talking to Giannozzo Pucci only a little while
ago, and Pm convinced there's nothing he would set his face
against more than against any attempt to alter the new order
of things."
" You are right there, Messer Domenico," said Tito, with a
laughing meaning in his eyes, as he rose from the sliaving-
chair; ''and 1 tiincy the tender |)assion came in aid of hard
theory there. I am persuaded there was some jealousy at the
bottom of Giannozzo's alienation from Piero de' ]N[edici, else
so amiable a creature as he would never feel the bitterness
he sometimes allows to escaj)e him in that quarter, lie was
in the procession with you, I suppose?"
"No," said Cennini ; "he is at his villa — went there three
days ago."
Tito was settling his cap and glancing down at his splash-
ed hose as if he hardly heeded the answer. In reality he had
obtained a much-desired piece of inlbnnation. He had at that
moment in his scarsella a crushed gold ring which he had en-
gaged to deliver to Giannozzo Pucci. He had received h
A
ROMOLA. 355
from an envoy of Piero de' Medici, whom lie liad ridden out
of his way to meet at Certaldo on the Siena road. Since Puc-
ci was not in tlie town, he would send the ring by Fra Michele,
a Carthusian lay brother in the service of tlie Mediceans, and
the receipt of that sign would bring Pucci back to hear the
verbal part of Tito's mission.
" Behold him !" said Xello, flourishing his comb and point-
ing it at Tito, "the handsomest scholar in the world or in
Maremma, now he has passed through my hands ! A trifle
thinner in the face, though, than when he came in his first
bloom to Florence — eh? and, I vow, there are some lines just
faintly hinting themselves about your mouth, Messer Oratore !
Ah, mind is an enemy to beauty ! I myself Avas thought
beautiful by the women at one time — when I was in my swad-
dling-bands. But now — oime ! I carry my unwritten poems
in cipher on my face !"
Tito, laughing with the rest as Xello looked at himself
tragically in the hand-mirror, made a sign of farewell to the
company generally, and took his departui'e,
"Pm of our old Piero di Cosimo's mind," said Francesco
Cei. "I don't half like Melema. That trick of smiling gets
stronger than ever. No wonder he has lines about the
mouth."
"He's too successful," said Macchiavelli, playfully. " Pm
sure there's something wrong about him, else he wouldn't
have that secretaryship."
"He's an able man," said Cennini, in a tone of judicial
fairness. " I and my brother have always found him useful
with our Greek sheets, and he gives great satisfaction to the
Ten. I like to see a young man work his way upward by
merit. And the secretary Scala, who befriended him from
the first, thinks highly of him still, I know."
" Doubtless," said a notary in the background. " He writes
Scala's official letters for him, or corrects them, and gets well
paid for it too."
" I wish Messer Bartolommeo would pay me to doctor his
gouty Latin," said Macchiavelli, with a shrug. " Did he tell
you about the pay, Ser Ceccone, or was it ]\Ielema himself?"
he added, looking at the notary with a face ironically innocent.
" Melema ? no indeed," answered Ser Ceccone. " He is as
close as a nut. He never brags. That's why he's employed
everywhere. They say he's getting rich with doing all sorts
of underhand work."
" It is a little too bad," said Macchiavelli, " and so many
able notaries out of employment !"
" Well, I must say I thought that was a nasty story a year
S5b ROMOI.A.
or two ai'en no intention of murder. It is simply a
plot for compelling liim to obey the Pope's summons to
Jiomo. IJut as I serve the ])0})ular government, ami think
the Frate's presence here is a necessary means of maintaining
it at present, I choose to j>revent his dei»arture. You may
go to sleep with entire case of mind to-night."
For a moment TJomola was silent. Then she said, in a
voice of anguish, " Tito, it is of no use: 1 have no belief iu
you."
She could just disconi his action, as he shrugged his shoul-
ders and spread out his palms in silence. That cold dislike
Avhich is the aniier of unimpassioneil beings was hardening
within him.
"If the Fratc leaves the city — if any harm hap]xns to
liim," saitl Koinola, after a slight ]iause, in a new tone of in-
dignant resolution, "I will declai-e what I have heard to the
Signoria, and you will be disgraced. What if I am your
wifeV" she went on, impetuously ; '* I will be disgraced with
you. If we are united, I am that part of you that will save
you from crime. Others shall not l>e betrayed."
"I am (juite aware of Avhat you would be likely to do,
anhtvi in'ta^'' said Tito, in the coolest of his li(|uid tttnes;
" therefore, if you have a small amount of reasoning at your
disj)osal just now, consider that if you believe me in nothing
else, you may believe me when I say I will take care of my-
self, ami not put it in your power to ruin me."
"Then you assure me that the Frate is warned — lie will
not go beyond the gates?"
"lie shall not e as disagreeable in its effects as the hatred of a fierce
dog not to be chained.
If Tito went forthwith to the monastery to warn Savo-
narola l)efore the monks went to rest, his warning would fol-
low so closely on his delivery of the forged letters that he
could not esca)»e unfavorabk' surmises, lie could not warn
Spini at <>nce without telling him the true reason, since he
could not immediately alli'ge the discovery that Savonarola,
had changed his purpose; and he knew Sj)iMi well enough to
know that his understanding would discern nothing but that
Tito had "turned round" and frustrated the ]tlot. On the
other hand, by deferring his warning to Savonarola until the
early iiioniing, lie woidd \h' almost sure to lose the opportu-
nity of warning Spini that the Frate had changed his mind ;
and thf band of ('oiiijxniitdrfi would come back in all the
rage of disapj»ointnient. This last, however, was the risk he
chose, trusting to his jiower of soothing Spini by assuring
him that the failure was due only to the Frate's caution.
Tito was aminvi'd. If he had had U) smile it would have
ROMOLA. 365
been an unusual cftbrt to liini. He Avas detorminccl not to en-
counter Roniola again, and he did not go home that night.
She -watched througli the night, and never took otf her
clothes. She heard the rain become heavier and heavier.
She liked to hear the rain ; the stormy heavens seemed a safe-
guard against men's devices, compelling them to inaction.
And Romola's mind was again assailed, not only by the ut-
most doubt of her husband, but by doubt as to her own con-
duct. What lie might he not have told her ? What proj-
ect might he not have, of which she was still ignorant ?
Every one who trusted Tito was in danger ; it Avas useless to
try and persuade herself of the contrary. And was not she
selfishly listening to the promptings of her own pride Avhen
she shrank from warning men against liim? " If her husband
was a malefactor, her place was in the prison by his side" —
that might be ; she Avas contented to fulfill that claim. But
was she, a Avife, to alloAV a husband to inflict the injuries that
Avould make him a malefactor Avhen it might be in her powd-
er to prevent them V Prayer seemed imjjossible to her.
The activity of her thought excluded a mental state of Avhich
the essence is expectant passivity.
The excitement became stronger and stronger. Her im-
agination, in a state of morbid activity, conjured up possible
schemes by which, after all, Tito Avould haA'e eluded her
threat ; and towards daybreak the rain became less violent,
till at last it ceased, the breeze rose again and dispersed the
clouds, and the morning fell clear on all the objects around
her. It made her uneasiness all the less endurable. Sho
wrapped her mantle round her, and ran up to the loggia, as if
there could be any thing in the Avide landscape that might
determine her action ; as if there could be any thing but
roofs hiding the line of street along Avhich Savonarola might
be walking toAvards betrayal.
If she Avent to her godfather, might she not induce him,
without any specific revelation, to take measures for pi'cvent-
ing Fra Girolamo from passing the gates ? But that might
be too late ; Romola thought, with new distress, that she had
fiiiled to learn any guiding details from Tito, and it Avas al-
ready long past seven. She must go to San M&rco : there
was nothing else to be done.
Slie hurried down the stairs, she went out into the street
without looking at her sick people, and Avalked at a SAvift
pace along the Via de' Bardi towards the Ponte Vecchio.
She would go through the heart of the citv : it Avasthe most
direct road, and besides, in the great Piazza there was a chance
of encounte'"ing her husband, Avho, by some possibility to
3GG nOMOI.A.
wliicli she still cluni;, niiijlit satisfy licr of tlic Fratc's safi'ty,
aii(tliii<^ or s(;inii>iiiir out tin- lift' from Romcthing
Ic'cblc, yrt ul>t in it, seemed togivea marked predoiu-
iiiauee to her husbaiurs dark strength.
"You took a step this morning," Tito went on, " whicli
you must now yourself jierceive to have been useless — whicli
exposed you to remark, and may involve me in serious prac-
tical dilTu-ulties.'"
" I acknowledge that I was too liasty ; I am sorry for any
injustice I may have done you." IJoinola spoke these words
in a fuller and lirmer tone; Tito, she hoped, would look less
liard wlien she had e.vpressed her regret, and then she could
say other things.
"I wish you once for all to understuid," he said, without
any change of voice, " that such collisions arc incom])atible
with our position as husband and wife, I wisli you to reflect
on the mode in which vou were led to take that step, that
the ])roeess may not be repeated."
"That depends chiefly on you, Tito," said Komola, taking
fire slightly. It was not what she haly.
" Yes," said Komola, flushing in irrepressible resentment at
tjis cold tone of sujteriority.
"^Vell, then, it may possibly not be very long before some
other chance words or incidents set your imagination at work
devising crimes for me, and you may perhaps rush to the Pa-
lazzo \'ecchio to alarm the Signoria and set the city in an U|)-
roar. Shall I tell you what may bi' the result? Not sim})ly
the disgrace of your husband, to which you look forward with
so much courage, but the arrest and ruin of many amon^
ROMOLA. 369
the chief men in Florence, including Messer Bernardo del
Nero.
Tito had meditated a decisive move, and he had made it.
The flush died out of Romola's face, and her very lips were
pale — an unusual efi:ect with her, for she v\"as little subject to
tear. Tito perceived his success.
" You would perhaps flatter yourself," he went on, " that
you were performing a heroic deed of deliverance ; you might
as well try to turncocks with fine words as apply such no-
tions to the politics of Florence. The question now is, not
whether you can have any belief in me, but whether, now you
have been warned, you will dare to rush, like a blind man
with a torch in his hand, among intricate aftairs of Avhich
you know nothing."
tiomola felt as if her mind were held in a vice by Tito's ;
the possibilities he had indicated Avere rising before her Avith
terrible clearness.
" I am too rash," she said. " I will try not to be rash."
"Remember," said Tito, with unsparing insistence, " that
your act of distrust toAvards me this morning might, for aught
you knew, have had more fatal effects than that sacrifice of
your husband Avhich you have learned to contemjilate Avith-
out flinching."
" Tito, it is not so," Romola burst forth, in a pleading tone,
rising and going nearer to him, Avith a desperate resolution
to speak out. " It is false that I Avould Avillingly sacrifice
you. It has been the greatest effort of my life to cling to
you. I went aAvay in my anger tAvo years ago, and I came
back again because I Avas more bound to you than to any
thing else on earth. But it is useless. You shut me out
from your mind. You affect to think of me as a being too
unreasonable to share in the knowledge of your atifairs. You
Avill be open Avith me about nothing."
She looked like his good angel pleading with him, as she
bent her face tOAvards him Avith dilated eyes, and laid her
liand upon his arm. But Romola's touch and glance no long-
er stirred any fibre of tenderness in her husband. The good'
humored, tolerant Tito, incapable of hatred, incapable almost
Di' impatience, disposed always to be gentle toAvards the rest
31 the world, felt himself becoming strangely hard towards
this Avife Avhose presence had once been the strongest influ<
ence he had knoAAm. With all his softness of disposition he
had a masculine effectiveness of intellect and purpose Avhich,
like sharpness of edge, is itself an energy, Avorking its Avay
Avithout any strong momentum. Romola had an energy of
her own which tliAvarted his, and no man, Avho i& not excep
IG*
3 To ROMOLA.
ti<>naT>ly fi'd^lo, Mill endure beiiii; thwarted liy lus wife. IMar-
riuLTO iiiiist be a relation eitliiT of sympathy or of euiKjuest.
No emotion (hirted aero.ss his faee as he heard liomola for
tlie first time speak of liaviiiij^ gone away from him. His lips
only looked a little harder as lie smiled slightly and said —
"]My Ilomola, when certain conditions are ascertained we
must make up our minds to them. No amount of wishing
will fill the Arno, as your people say, or turn a jiliim into an
orange. I have not observed even that ])rayers have much
efficacy that Avay. You are so constituted as to have certain
strong impressions inaccessible to reason : I can not share
those impressions, and you have M'ithdrawn all trust from me
in conse(]uence. You have changed towards me ; it has fol-
lowed that 1 have changi'd towards you. It is useless to t^ake
any retros))cct. AVe Ixive simply to ada])t t)urselvcs to alter-
ed conditions."
"Tito, it would not be useless for us to sjieak openly,"
said Komola, flusliing with the sort of exasperation that comes
from using living muscle against some lifeless insurmounta-
ble resistance. "'It was the sense of deception in you that
changed me, and that has kej)t us apart. .And it is not trua
that I changed first. You changed towards me tlie night you
first wore tliat chain armor. You liad some secret from me
— it was about that old man — and I saw him again yesterday.
Tito," she went on, in a tone of agonized entreaty, "if you
would once tell me every thing, let it be Avhat it may — I
would not mind ))ain — that there might be no wall between
us ! Is it not jxjssible that we could begin a new life V"
This time there was a flash of emotion across Tito's face,
rie stofxl ))erfectly still ; but the flash seemed to have whiten-
ed him. He took no notice of llomola's api)eal, but, after a
moment's pause, said (piietly,
" Your impetuosity about trifles, Ivomola, has a freezing
influence that would cool the baths of Kero." At these cut^
ting words IJomola shiank and drew herself up into her usu-
al self-sustained attitude. Tito went on: " If by that old
man you mean the mad lacopo di Nola who atti'm])ti'd my
life and made a strange accusation against me, of which I told
yon nothing because it Avould have alarmed you to no pur-
pose, he, p.oor wretch, has died in jirison. I saw his name in
the list ot dead."
" I know nothing about his accusation," said Komola.
" But I know he is the man whom I saw with the ro]>e round
his neck in the Duomo — the man whose jiortrait Piero di
Cosimo painted, grasj)ing your arm as he saw him grasp it the
day the French entered — the day you first wore the armor."
ROM OLA. 371
'• And where is he now, pray ?" said Tito, still pale, but
governing liimself.
" He was lying lifeless in the street from starvation," said
Romola. " I revived him with bread and wine, I brought
him to our dooi-, but he refused to come in. Then I gave him
some money, and he went away without telling me anything.
But he had found out that I was your wife. Who is he ?"
" A man half mad, half imbecile, who was once my father's
servant in Greece, and who has a rancorous hatred towards
me because I got him dismissed for theft. Now you have
the whole mystery, and the further satisfaction of knowing
that I am again in danger of assassination. The fact of my
wearing the armor, about Avhich you seem to have thought
so much, must have led you to infer that I was in danger
from this man. Was that the reason you chose to cultivate
his acquaintance and hivite him into the house?"
llomola was mute. To speak was only like rushing with
bare breast against a shield.
Tito moved from his leaning posture, slowly took off his
cap and mantle, and pushed back his hair. lie was collect-
ing himself for some linal words. And Romola stood upright
looking at Kun as she might have looked at some on-coming-
deadly force, to be met only by silent endurance.
" We need not refer to these matters again, Romola," he
said, precisely in the same tone as that in which he had
spoken at first, " It is enough if you will remember that the
next time your generous ardor leads you to interfere in po-
litical afiairs you are likely, not to save any one from danger,
but to be raising scaffolds and setting houses on fire. You
are not yet a sufficiently ardent Piagnone to believe that
Messer Bernardo del Nero is the Prince of Darkness, and
Messer Francesco Valori the archangel Michael, I think I
need demand no promise from you ?"
"I have understood you too well, Tito,"
" It is enough," he said, leaving the room,
Romola turned round Avith despair in her face and sank
into her seat, "O God, I have tried — I can not help it. We
shall always be divided." Those words passed silently
through her mind. " Unless," she said aloud, as if" some sud-
:]en vision had startled her into speech — " unless misery should
come and join us !"
Tito, too, had a nev/ thought in his mind after he had
closed the door behind him. With the project of leaving
Florence as soon as his life there had become a high enough
stepping-stone to a life elsewhere, perhaps at Rome or Milan,
there was now for the first time associated a desire to be freo
.•372 KoMor./i.
Cntiii I\<)iiu»l:i, ;iiul to Icivo lur bthiiid liiiii. She had ct-ascd in
l)t.'l<>ii'_j t(» tlu' tU'sirablc iiiniituiv ol" his lif" : there was no pos-
sihility ot :iii easy rehitioii hetweeii them without i^enuiiie-
ness on Iiis ])art. Geiiuinciiess inijilii'd ooiiiessioii of tlie ])ast,
and conlession involved a ehan^e of j)uri)ose. IJiil Tito lin»l
as little bent that way as a leopard has to lap milk wlien its
teeth are grown. From all relations that were not easy and
ijrreeable we know' that Tito shrank : why should he cling
to them y
And liomola had made liis relations difficult with othei-s
besides hersi'lf. lie had had' a troublesome interview with
DoHb !Si)ini, who had come back in a rage alter an inellectual
soaking with rain and long waiting in ambush, and that scene
between Komola and himself at Nello's door, once re])orted
in Spini's ear, might be a seed of something more unmanage-
able than suspicion, ]>ut now, at least, he believed that he
had mastered liomola by a terror which ai»i)ealed to the
strongest forces of her nature, lie had alarmed her attection
and her conscience by the shadowy image of conse(piences;
he had arrested her intellect by hanging before it the idea
of a hopeless complexity in affairs which defied any moral
judgment.
Yet Tito was not at ease. The world was not yet quite
cushioned with velvet, and, if it had been, he could not have
abandoned himself to that softness with thorough enjoyment ;
for bel'ore he went out again this evening he put on his coat
of chain armor.
ciiaptp:ii xlix.
THE PYKAMII) OF VANITIES.
The wintry days passed for Romola as the white shipa
pass one who is standing lonely on the shore — jtassing in si-
lence and sameness, and yet each bearing a hidden burden
nf coming change. Tito's hint had mingled so much ling ; there were worldly
music-books, and musical instruments in all the pretty varie-
ties of lute, drum, cymbal, and trumpet ; there were masks and
masquerading dresses used in the old carnival shows ; there
were handsome copies of Ovid, Boccaccio, Petrarch, Pulci,and
other books of a vain or impure sort; there were all the im-
])lements of feminine vanity — rougc-i^its, false hair, mirrors,
jK'rfumes, powders, and trans[iarent veils intended to ]»rovoke
inquisitive glances: lastly, at the very summit, there was the
unflattering effigy of a prol)ably mytliical Venetian merchant,
who was understood to have offered a heavy sum for this
collection of marketable abominations, and, soaring above
him in surpassing ugliness, the symbolic figure of the old de-
bauclr.'d Carnival.
This was the j)reparation for a new sort of bonfire — tlio
Burning of Vanities. Hidden in the interior of the pyramid
was a plentiful stoiv ot'dry fuel and guiqiowder; and on this
last a zeal for unseen good that shoidd put to shame the
lukewarmness of their elders, and wi're to know Jio pleasures
ROilOLA. 373
save of an angelic sort — singing divine praises and walking
in Vv'hitc robes. It was for them that the ranges of seats had
been raised high against the walls of the Duomo; and they
had been used to liear Savonarola appeal to iheni as tlie fu-
ture glory of a city especially appohited to do the work of
God.
These fresh-cheeked troops were the chief agents in the re-
generated merriment of the new Carnival, which was a sort
of sacred parody of the old. Had there been bonfires in the
old time V There was to be a bonfiro now, consuming im-
purity from otf the earth. Had there been symbolic proces-
sions? There were to be processions now, but the symbols
were to be white robes and and red crosses and olive-wreaths
.—emblems of peace'and nmocent gladness — and the banners
and images held aloft were to tell the triumphs of goodness.
Had there been dancing in a ring under the open sky of the
piazza, to the sound oi' choral voices chanting loose songs?
Thei-e was to be dancing in a ring now, but dancing of monks
and laity ni fraternal love and divine joy, and the music was
to be the music of hymns. As for the collectionsfrom street
passengers, they were to be greater than ever — not for gross
and superfluous suppers, but for the benefit of the hungry
and needy ; and, besides, there was the collecting of the
Anathema^ or the Vanities to be laid on the great pyram-
idal bonfire.
Troops of young inquisitors went from house to house on
this exciting business oi asking that the Anathema should
be given up to them. Fehaps after the more avowed vani-
ties had been surrendered, Madonna, at the head of the house-
hold, had still certain little reddened balls brought from the
Levant, intended to produce on the sallow cheek a sudden
bloom of the most ingenuous falsity ? If so, let her bring
them down and cast them into the basket of doom. Or, per-
haps, she had ringlets and coils of " dead hair " — if so, let her
bring them to the street-door, not on her head, but in liev
liands, and publicly renounce the Anathema which liid the
respectable signs of age under a ghastly mockery of youth.
And, in reward, she would hear fresh young voices pronounce
a blessing on her and her house.
The beardless inquisitors, organized into little regiments,
doubtless took to their work very willingly. To coerce peo-
ple by shame, or other si)iritual pelting, to the giving up of
things it will probably vex them to part Avith, is a form of
piety to which the boyish mind is most readily converted ;
and if some obstinately wicked men got enraged and threat-
ened the whip or the cudgel, this also was exciting. SaYona*
370 ROMOLA.
rola li'miscir oviilcntly felt :il)ont tlio fraiiiinerambulations to collect alms and
vanities, and this "was why IJoniola saw the slim white
figures moving to and fro about the base of the great pyr-
amid.
" What think you of this folly, IMadonna Tiomola ?" said
abrusijuo voice close to her ear. " Your I'iagnoni will make
rhifento a pleasant ])rospect to us, if they are to carry things
their own way on earth. It's enough to letch a cudgel over
(he mountains to see ])ainters, like Lorenzo di Cri'di and
voun<_r Jiaccio there, heluiuu' to burn color out of life in this
lashion.
"^ly good Piero," said Koinola, looking u]> and smiling at
the grim man, '• even you must be glail to see some of these
things burned. Look at those gewgaws and wigs and rouge-
])ots : 1 have heard you talk as iiulignantly against those
things as Fra (iirolamo himself"
"What then?" said Piero, turning I'ound on her sharp-iy.
"I never saiy us — a fiG:iii'c not clud
in black, Int in the o\d rod, gruen, and white — was aiiproaeh-
ing the Piazza that luornniu; to see the carnival. She came
from an opposite i)oint, for Tessa no longer lived on the hill
of San Gidigio. After what haened there Avith Bal-
dassarre, Tito had thought it best for that and other reasons
to find lier a new home, but still m a quiet, airy quarter, in a
liouse bordering on the wide garden grounds north of the
Porta Santa Croce.
Tessa was not come out sight-seeing without special leave.
Tito had been witli her the evening before, and she had kept
back the entreaty which she felt to be swelling her heart and'
throat until she saw hini in a state of radiant ease, with one
arm round the sturdy LiUo, and the other resting gently on
her own shoulder as she tried to make the tiny Njiina steady
on her legs. She was sure then that the weariness with
■which he had come in and flung himself into his chair had
quite melted away from his brow and lips. Tessa had not
been slow at learning a few small stratagems by which she
might avoid vexing Naldo and yet have a little of her own
way. She could read nothing else, but she had learned to
read a good deal in her husbaiurs face.
And certainly the charm of that bright, gentle-humored
Tito who woke up under the Loggia de' Cerchi on a Lenten
morning five years before, not having yet giveir any hos-
tages to deceit, never returiuMl so nearly as in the ]>erson of
Naldo, seateabl)o" were verv sweet in his ears for the short
while that he heard them.' When he thought of leaving
Florence he never thought of leaving Tessa and the little
ones behind. Tie w:>s verv fond of these round-cheeked, wide-
eyed human things that clung about him and knew no evil
of him. And wherever aftection can spring, it is like the
green leaf and the blossom — pure, and breathing purity,
ROMOLA. 370
whatever soil it may grow in. Poor Roinola, with all hei*
self-sacriticing eftbrt, Avas really helping to harden Tito's na-
ture by chilling it with a positive dislike which had before-
hand seemed impossible in him; but Tessa kept open the
fountains of kindness.
" Ninna is very good without me now," began Tessa,
feeling her request rising very high in her throat, and letting
Ninna seat herself on the floor. " I can leave her with 3Jon-
iia Lisa any time, and if she is in tlie cradle and cries, Lillo
is as sensible as can be — he goes and tliumps MonnaLisa."
Lillo, whose great dark eyes looked all the darker because
his curls were of a light brown like his mother's, jumped oiF
Babbo's knee, and went forthwith to attest his intelligence
by thumping Monna Lisa, who was shaking lier head slowly
over iier spuming at the other end of the room.
" A wonderful boy !" said Tito, laughing.
" Isn't he ?" said Tessa, eagerly, getting a little closer to
him, "and I might go and see the Carnival to-morrow, just
for an hour or two, mightn't I ?"
" Oh, you M-icked pigeon !" said Tito, pinching her cheek ;
" those are your longings, are they? What have you to do
with carnivals, now you are an old woman with two chil-
dren ?"
" But old women like to see things," said Tessa, her lower
lip hanccing a little. " ]Moima Lisa said she should like to go,
only she's so deaf she can't hear what is behind her, and she
thinks we couldn't take care of both the cliildren."
'*' Xo, indeed, Tessa," said Tito, looking rather grave, " you
must not think of taking the children into the crowded
streets, else I shall be angry."
"But I have never been into the Piazza without leave,"
said Tessa, in a frightened, pleading tone, " since the Holy
Saturday, and Nofri I think is dead, for you know the poor
rnadre died ; and I shall never forget the carnival I saw once ;
it was. so pretty — all roses, and a king and queen under them
— and singing. I liked it better than the San Giovanni."
" But there's nothing like that now, my Tessa. They are
goi-ng to make a bonfire in the Piazza — that's all. But I can
:.iOt let you go out by yourself in the evening."
" Oh^ no,"no! I don't want to go in the evening. I only
want to go and see the procession by daylight. There inll
be a procession — is it not true V"
"Yes, after a sort," said Tito, "as lively as a flight of
cranes. You must not expect roses and glittering kings and
queens, myTessa, However,! suppose any string of people to
be called a procession will please your blue eyes. And there's
380 liOMOLA.
a tfiintj (lu'V liavo raised in tlie Piazza (k-^ Sicjnori for the borv
lire. Vou may like ti) see tliat. IJiit coiiu' home early, and
look like a grave Utile old woman; and it" you see any men
with feathers and swords keep out of their way : they are
very fieree, .'ind like to eut old women's heads oti'."
"Santa Madonna I where do they eome from V Ah! you
are launhini;; it is not so bad. But I will keep away from
them. Oidy," Tessa went on in a whisper, ])utting her lips
near Naldo's ear, " if I mi^ht take Lillo with me I He is very
sensible."
"JJut who will thtini]) ]M<^)nna Lisa tlien, if she doesn't
liear V said Tito, fmdinu,' it difKenlt irot to lauijh, 1)ut tliink-
iii'jj it necessary to look serious. " No, Tessa, you could not
take care of Lillo if you got into a crowd, and he's too heavy
for you to carry liim."
" It is truf," said Tessa, ratlier sadly, " and he likes to run
away. I forgot that. Then 1 will go alone. l>ut now look
at Ninna — you have not looked at her enough."
Ninna was a blue-eyed thing, at the tottering, tumbling age
— a fair solid, which, like a loaded die, found its base with a
constancy that w^arranted prediction. Tessa went to snatch
her up, and when Babbo was paying due attention to tlic re-
cent teeth and other mai'vels, she said, in a Avhisj)er, "And
shall I buy some co/i/iffi for the children ?"
Tito drew some small coins from his scarsella, and poured
them into hci- palm.
"That Avill buy no end," said Tessa, delighted at tliis
abundance. " I shall not mind going without Lillo so much,
if I bring him sonu'thing."
So Tessa set out in the morning towards the great Piazza
where the bonfire was to be. She did not thiid< the Feb-
ruary breeze cold enough to demand furtlier covering than
hergreun woollen dress. A mantle would have been o]»press-
ive, for it wouUl have hidden a new necklace and a lu'w clasp,
mounted with silver, the only ornamental presents Tito had
ever made her. Tessa did not think at all of showing her fig-
ure, for no one liad ever told her it was pretty ; l)ut slie was
"^juite sure tliat her necklace and clasp were of the j)rettiest
Bort ever worn by the richest contadina, and she arranged her
white hood ovei- her head so that the front of her necklace
might be well disj)layed. Tiiese ornaments, she considei-i'd,
must inspire res])ect for her as tlie wife of some one who could
afford to buy them.
She trip])e(l along very cheerily in the Februai'y sunshine,
thinking much of the jiurchases foi- the littU; ones, with which
ehe was to fill her small basket, and not thinking at all of any
EOMOLA. 381
one who might be observing her. Yet her descent from her
upper story into the street liad been watched, and she was
"being kept in sight as she walked by a person who had often
waited in vain to see if it were not Tessa who lived in that
honse to which he had more than once dogged Tito. Bal-
dassarre was carrying a package of yarn: he Avas constantly
employed in that way, as a means of earning his scanty bread,
and keeping the sacred fire of vengeance alive ; and he had
come out of his way this morning, as he had often done be-
fore, that he miglit pass by the house to which he had follow-
ed Tito in the evening. His long imprisonment had so in-
tensified his timid suspicion, and his belief in some diabolic
fortune favoring Tito, that he had not dared to pursue him,
except under cover of a crowd or of the darkness ; he felt,
with instinctive horror, that if Tito's eyes fell upon him, he
should again be held up to obloquy, again be dragged away ,'
his weapon would be taken from him, and he should be cast
helpless into a prison-cell. His fierce purpose had become as
stealthy as a serpent's, which depends for its prey on one dart
of the fang. Justice was weak and.unffiended ; and he could
not hear again the voice that pealed the promise of vengeance
in the Duomo : he had been there again and again ; but that
voice, too, had apparently been stifled by cunning, strong-arm-
ed wickedness. For a long while Baldassarre's ruling thought
was to ascertani whether Tito still wore the armor ; for now
at last his fainting hope would have been contented with a
successful stab on this side the grave; but he would never
risk his precious knife again. It was a weary time he had
had to wait for the chance of answering this question by
touching Tito's back in the press of the street. Since then
the knowledge that the sharp steel Avas useless, and that he
had no hope but in some new device, had fallen with leaden
weight on his enfeebled mind. A dim vision of winning one
of those two wives to aid him came before him continually,
and continually slid away. The wife who had lived on the
hill was no longer there. If he could find licr again he might
grasp some thread of a project, and work his way to more
clearness.
And this morning he had succeeded. He was quite certain
now where this Avife lived, and as he Avalked, bent a little
under his burden of yarn, yet keeping the green and A\d)ite
figure in sight, his mind Avas dAvelling upon her and her cir-
cumstances as feeble eyes dAvell on lines and colors, trying to
interpret them into consistent significance.
Tessa had to pass through A'arious long streets Avithout
seeing any other sign of the Carnival than luiusual groups of
382 noMoi.A.
tlu' ro\intry pcoplo in llicir best Lrarments, and that disposi'
tion ill cMTv body to i-lial and loittT wiiicli marks tin- early
liours ofa holiday bctbrc the spectaele lias betrun. Presently,
in her disappointcil si'arch for reiiiarkablc olijects, hir eyes
fell on a man w ith a pechller's basket before him, who seemed
to be selling nothing but little red crosses to all the ])assen-
gers. A little red cross would be jtretty to hang up over her
ix'd ; and it Avould also help to keep ott'harm, and would per-
liaps make Xinna stronger. Tessa went to the other side of
the street, that slie might ask the y»cddler the ])rice of the
crosses, fearing that they would cost a little to(j much for her
to spare from her purchase of sweets. The ))eddler's back
had been turned towards her liitherto, but when she came
near him she recognized an old accpiaintance of the ^lercato,
Bratti P\'rravecchj, and accustonu'd to feel that she was to
avoid old accpiaintances, she turned away again, and passed
to the other side of the street. I^ut IJratti's eye was too well
practised in looking out at the corner afti'r jiossible custom-
ers for her movement to have escajied liim, and she was pres-
ently arrested by a tap on the arm irom one of the red crosses.
"Young woman," said IJratti, as she unwillingly tuiiicd
her head, "you come from some <-astello a good way oil", it
seems to me, else you\l never think of walking about, tliis
blessed Carnival, without a red cross in yo\ir hand. Santa
Madonna! Four Avhite rpuittrini is a small price to pay for
your soul — prices rise in ]turgat()ry, let me tell you."
"Oh, I should like one," said Tessa, hastily, "but I could
not s|)are four Avhite quattrini."
Bratti had at tirst regarded Tessa too abstractedly as a
mere customer to look at her with any scrutiny, but Mhen
she began to speak he exclaimed, " By the lu ad of San (iio-
vanni, it must be the little Tessa, and looking as fresh as a
ripe a]>ple! A\'hat, you've done none the worse, then, for
running away from father Nofri? You were in the right of
it, for lie goes on crutches now, and a crabbed ieilow with
crutches is dancrerous; he can reach across the house and
beat a woman as hi' sits."
"Tin niarric to her. Slu' trem-
bled as she would have done if St. .Michael in the ])icture had
sliaken his liead at her, and was conscious of nothing but ter-
rified Avonder till she saw close to her a round boyish face,
lower tlian her own, and heard a treble voice saying, "Sis-
tei, you carry tlu' Aimtlniint about you. Yield it up to the
blessed Gcsii, and lie Avill adorn you Avith the gems of His
grace."
Tessa Avas only more frighteiud, understanding nothing
Her first conjecture settled on her basket of sweets. The}
wanted that, tliese alarming angels. Oh, dear, dear! She
lookeil down at it.
" Xo, sister,"' said a taller youth, pointing to her necklace
and the clasj) of her belt, " it is those A'anities that arc the Ana-
theinn. Take otf that necklace and unrlasp that belt, that
KOMOLA. 385
tney ipay be burned in the holy Bonfire of Vanities, and save
you from burning."
"It is the truth, my sister," said a still taller youth, evi-
dently the archangel of this band. " Listen to these voices
speaking the divine message. You already carry a red cross:
let that be your only adornment. Yield up your necklace
and belt, and you shall obtain grace."
This was too much. Tessa, overcome with awe, dared not
say "no," but she was equally unable to render up her be-
loved necklace and clasp. Her pouting lips were quivering,
the tears rushed to her eyes, and a great drop fell. For a
moment she ceased to see any thing ; she felt nothing but
confused terror and misery. Suddenly a gentle hand was
laid on her arm, and a soft, wonderful voice, as if the Holy
Madonna were speaking, said, " Do not be afraid ; no one shall
harm you."
Tessa looked up and saw a lady in black, with a young
heavenly face and loving hazel eyes. She had never seezi
any one like this lady before, and under other circumstances
might have had aAve-struck thoughts about her; but now
every thing else was overcome by the sense tlmt loving pro-
tection was near her. The tears only fell the fastei", i-elieving
her swelling heart, as she looked up at the heavenly face, and,
putting her hand to her necklace, said, sobbingly,
" I can't give them to be burned, My husband — he bought
them for me— and they are so pretty — and Ninna — Oh, I wish
I'd never come !"
" Do not ask her for them," said Roinola, speaking to the
white-robed boys ii» a tone of mild authority. " It answers
no good end for people to give up such things against their
will. That is not what Fra Girolamo approves: he would
have such things given up freely."
Madonna Romola's word was not to be resisted, and the
white train moved on. They even moved with haste, as if
some new object had^caught their eyes ; and Tessa felt with
bliss that they were gone, and that her necklace and clasp
were still with her.
" Oh, I will go back to the house," she said, still agitated ;
" I will go nowl)ere else. But if I should meet them again,
and you not be there?" she added, expecting every thing
irom this heavenly lady.
" Stay a little," said Romola. " Come with me under this
doorway, and we will hide the necklack and clasp^and then
you will be in no danger."
She led Tessa under the arch-way, and said, " Xow, can we
find room for your necklace and belt in your basket? Ah I
17
886 KO.MOLA.
your basket is full of crisp things that will hrcak : let U3 be
careful and lay the licavy lU'iklace under tlien^."
It was like a change in a (beam to Tessa — the escape from
nightmare into floating safety and joy — to find herself taken
care of by this lady, so lovely, and j)o\\erl"ul, and g"ntle. Sho
let lioniola unfasten her necklace and clasp, while she herself
did nothing but lookup at the lace that bent over her.
" They are sweets fur Lillo and Kinna," she said, as Komo*
la carefully lifted up the light parcels in the basket, and placed
the ornaments l)elo\v then*.
"Those are your children?" said Komola, smiling. "And
you would rather go home to them than see any more of the
Carnival V Else you have not I'ar to go to the Fiaz/.a de' Sig-
nori, and there you would see the ])ile for the great bonfire."
"No; oh, no!" said Tessa, eagerly; "I shall never like
bonfires again. I will go back."
"You live at some a/.s^/^7/o, doubtless," said ]{oniola, not
waiting for an answer. "Towards which gate do you go V"
"Towards T*or' Santa Croce."
"Come, tlien," said liomola, taking her by the hand and
leading her to the comer of a street nearly opposite. " If you
go down there," she said, pausing, " you Avill soon be in a
straight road. And I must leave you now, because some one
else expects me. Vou will not be iiightened. Your j)retty
things are quite safe now. Addio."
"Addio, ^Fadonna," said Tessa, almost in a Avhisper, not
knowing what else it would be right to say ; and in an instant
the heavenly lady was gone. Tessa turned to catch a last
glimpse, but she only saw the tall gliding figure vanish round
the ])rojectiiig stone-work. So she went on her May in won-
der, longing to be once more saielv houseil with JNIouua Lisa,
undcsirous of carnivals for evermore.
Kaldassarre had kept Tessa in sight till the monu-nt of lier
parting with liomola : then he went away with his bundle
of yarn. It seemed to him that he liad discerned a clue which
miglit guide him if he<'ould only grasp the necessary details
firmly enough. He had seen the two wives together, and the
sight haower of imagining facts need-
ed to ])c reinforced continuallv bv the s(Mises. Tiie tall wife
was the noble and rightful wile ; she IkuI the blood in her that
would be readily kindled to resentment; she would know
what scholarshij> Avas, and liow it might lie locked in by the
obstructions of the stricken body, like a treasure buried by
earthquake". She could believe him : she would be inclined
to believe him if he proved to her that her husband was u; •
KOMOLA. 387
faithful. Women cared .al>out that : they would take Ven-
geance for that. If this wife of Tito's h:)ved liiui, she wouhJ.
have a sense of injury which Baldassarre's mind dwelt on with
keen lono-ing, as if it would be the strenfjth of another Will
added to his own, the strength of another mind to form de-
vices.
Both these Avives had been kind to Baldassarre, and their
acts tov/ards him, being bound up with the Aery image of them,
had not vanished from his memory ; yet the thought of their
pain could not present itself to him as a check. To him it
seemed that pain was the order of the Avorld for all except
the hard and base. If any Avere innocent, if any Avere noble,
Avhere could the utmost gladness lie for them? Where it lay
for liim^in unconquerable hatred and triumphant vengeance.
But he must be cautious : he must watch this Avife in the
Via de' Bardi, and learn more of her ; for even here frustra-
tion Avas possible- There Avas no power for him now but in
patience.
CHAPTER LI.
MONNA BRIGIDA's CONA-ERSIOJf.
When Romola said that some one else expected her f-he
meant her cousin Brigida, but she Avas far from suspectuig
bow much that good kinswoman Avas in need of her. lieturn-
ing together tOAvards the Piazza, they had descried the compa-
ny of youths coming to a stand before Tessa, and Avhen Ilom-
ola, having approached near enough to see the simple little
contadina's distress, said, "Wait for me a moment, cousin,"
Monna Brigida said hastily, " Ah, I Avill not go on : come for
me to Boni's shop ; I shall go back there."
The truth Avas, Monna Brigida had a consciousness on the
one hand of certain " vanities " carried on her person, and on
the other of a groAving alarm lest the Piagnoni should be
right in holding that rouge, and false hair, and pearl embroid-
ery endamaged the soul. Their serious view of things filled
the air like an odor ; nothing seemed to have exactly the
same flavor as it used to have ; and there Avas the dear child
Romola, in lier youth and beauty, leading a life that Avas un-
comfortably suggestive of rigorous demands on Avoraan. A
AvidoAV at fifty-five AA'hose satisfaction has been largely draAvn
from Avhat she thinks of lier own person, and av hat she be-
lieves others think of it, requires a great fund of imagination
to keep her spirits buoyant. And Monna Brigida had begun
to have frequent struggles at her toilette. If her soul avouIq
3S8 UOMOLA.
prosper hotter without tliem, was it really worth wliile to put
on the roui^e and tlie hniids ? Iiut wlien she lifted up the
liaud-inirror and saw a sallow face with haiff^y eheeks, and
erow's-leet that were not to be dissimulated Ijv any siinuer-
iiig of the lips — when she j)arted her gray hair, and let it lie
in simpU' Piai^iioiie fashion round her face, her eouraije failed,
3Ionna Berta would certainly burst out lau^hinii ^it her, and
call her an old hag, and as^Ionua lierta was really only Hftv-
t\vo,she had a su{)eriority which would make the observation
cutting. Every woman who was not a Pia'-^none would irive
a shrug at the siglit of her, and the men would accost her as
if she were their grandmother. AVhereas, at fifty-five a wom-
an was not so yery old — she only re(|uired making uji a lit-
tle. So the rouge and the braids ami the embrt)idered ber-
retta went on again, and JMonna Brigida was satisfied with
the accustomed effect; as for her neck, if she covered it up
people might su))pose it Avas too old to show, and (>n the con-
trary, with the necklaces round it, it looked better than Mon-
na Herta's. This very day, when she was preparing for the
Piagnone Carnival, such a struggle had occunvd and the con-
flicting fears and longings which caused the struggle caused
lier to turn back and seek refuge in the druggist's shop rath-
er than encounter the collectors of the Ancthetna when Ko-
mola was not by her side.
JJut Monna Brigida was not quite rapid enough in her re-
treat. She had been descried, even before she turned away
by the white-robed l)oys in the rear of those who Avheeled
round towards Tessa, and the willingness with which Tessa
was given uj) was, perhaps, slightly due to the fact that part
of the troop had already accosted a personage carrying more
markedly upon her the dangerous weight of the AiKtthema.
It liai)p('neil that several of this troop were at the youngest
age taken into peculiar training; and a small fellow often,
liis olive-wreath restingabove chei'nbic cheeks and widebrown
eyes, his imagination really j)ossessed with a hovering awe at
existence as something in which great consequences impend-
ed on lieing good or bad, liis longings nevertheless running
in the direction of mastery and mischief, was the first to reach
]Momia Brigida and place himsi-lf across her path. She felt
angry and looked for an open door, bnt there was not one at
lumd, and by attempting to escajx' now she would otdy make
things worse. But it was not the chernl)ic-faced young one
who first addressed her; it was a youth of fifteen who held
one handle of a wide basket.
" ^'enl'rable mother I" he began, " the blessed Jesus com-
mands you to give uj» the Anathema which you carry upon
ROMOLA. 389
you. That cap embroidered with pearls, those jewels that
fasten up your false hair — let them be given up and sold for
the poor ; and cast tlie hair itself away from you, as a lie that
is only tit for burning. Doubtless, too, you have other jew'
els under your silk mantle."
" Yes, lady," said the youth at the otlier handle, who had
many of Fra Girolamo's phrases by heart, " they are too
heavy for you : they are heavier than a millstone, and ai'e
weighting you for perdition. Will you adorn yourself with
the hunger of the poor, and be proud to carry God's curse
upon your head?"
" In truth you are old, buona madre," said the cherubio
boy, in a sweet soprano. " You look very ugly with the red
on your cheeks and that black, glistening hair, and those fine
things. It is only Satan who can like to see you. Your
Angel is sorry. He wants you to rub away the red."
The little fellow snatched a soft silk scarf from the basket,
and held it towards Monna Brigida, that she might use it as
her o-uardian anojel desired. Her anger and mortification
w^ere fast giving way to spiritual alarm. Monna Berta, and
that cloud of witnesses, highly-dressed society in general, were
not looking at her, and she was surrounded by young moni-
tors, whose Avhite I'obcs, and wreatlis, and red crosses, and
di'eadful candor, had something awful in their unusualness.
Her Franciscan confessor, Fra Cristoforo, of Santa Croce,
was not at hand to reinforce her distrust of Dominican teach-
ing, and she Avas helplessly possessed and shaken by a vague
sense that a supreme Avarning was come to her, Unvisited
by the least suggestion of any other course that was open to
her, she took the scarf that Avas held out, and rubbed her
cheeks, with trembling subraissiveness.
" It is well, madonna," said the second youth. *' It is a
holy beginning. And Avhen you have taken those vanities
from your head, the dcAV of heaA'enly grace Avill descend on
it." The infusion of mischief Avas getting stronger, and put-
ting his hand to one of the jewelled pins that fastened her
braids to the berretta, he drcAV it out. The heavy black plait
fell down over Monna Brigida's face, and dragged the rest of
the head-gear forAvard. It Avas a ncAV reason for not hesita-
ting : she put up her hands hastily, undid the other fastenings,
and flung doAvn into the basket of doom her beloA'ed crimson
velvet berretta, Avith all its unsurpassed embroidery of seed-
pearls, and stood an unrouged Avoman, Avith gray hair pushed
backward from a face where certain deep lines of age had
triumphed over embonpoint.
But the berretta Avas not allowed to lie in the basket
390 EOMOl-A.
Witli inijtisli zeal tlic youngsters liltetl it uj», and hold it
j>itik'ssly, with the false hair daiiiflini;.
" IScc, venerable mother," said the taller youtli, " what ugly
lies you have delivered yourself from ! Anriiji(la in her Huetuatiiig resigna-
tion to aLje and gray hairs; hut they introduced a Lenteu
time in wiiicli she was kept at a high pitch of mental excite
ment and active etfort.
Bernardo del Nero had been elected (lonfaloniei-e. By
great exertions the Medicean ])arty had so fur triumphed,
and that triumph had dee])ened Komola's presentiment of
some secretly ]>reparcd scheme likely to ripen eitlier into suc-
cess or betrayal dui-ing these two months of her godiather's
authority. Every morning the dim daybreak, as it peered
into hcr'room, seemed to be that haunting fear coming back
to her. Every morning the fear went with her as die ))assed
through the streets on her Avay to the early sermon in the
Duonio : but there she gradually lost the sense of its chill
presejice, as men lose the dread of death in the clash of l)at-
tle. «"
In the Duomo she felt herself sharing in a passionate con-
flict which had wider relations than any inclosed within the
walls of Florence. I'^'or Savonarola was preaching — preach-
ing till' last course of Lenten sermons he was ever allowed
to finish in tlie Duomo: he knew that excommunication was
iinminent, and he had reached the point of defying it. lie
held up the condition of the Chundi in the tenihle minor of
his unllinching speech, which called things by their right
names and dealt in no polite periphrases ; he ju'oclaimed with
heightening confidence the advent of renovation — of a mo-
ment when there would V)e a general revolt against corrup-
tion. As to his own destiny, he seemed to have a double and
alternating ])revisiros])ect for himself but ]iersecution and
martyrdom : — this life for him was only a vigil, and only af
ter death would come the dawn.
The position Avas one which must have had its impressive
ROMOLA. 393
noss ior all minds that were not of the dullest order, even if
they Avere inclined, as Macchiavelli Avas, to interpret the
Frate's character Ly a key that ])resupposed no loftiness. To
Romola, whose kindred ardor gave her a firm belief in Savo
narola's genuine greatness of purpose, the crisis was as stir-
rmg as if^it had been part of her personal lot. It blent itself
as an exalting memory with all her daily labors ; and those
labors were calling not only for dilficult perseverance, but for
new courage. Famine had never yet taken its flight from
Florence, and all distress, by its long continuance, was getting
harder to bear ; disease was spreading in the crowded city
and the Plague was expected. As Romola walked, often in
weariness, among the sick, the luingry, and the murmuring,
she felt it good to be inspired by something more than her
pity — by the belief in a heroism struggling for sublime ends,
towards Avhich the daily action of her pity could only tend
feebly, as the dews that freshen the weedy ground to-day
tend to prepare an unseen harvest in the years to come.
But that mighty music which stirred her in the Duomo
was not without its jarring notes. Since those first days of
glowing hope when the Frate, seeing the near triumph of
good in the reform of the Republic and the coming of the
French deliverer, had preached peace, charity, and oblivion of
political differences, there had been a marked change of cou'
ditions: political intrigue had been too obstinate to allow of
the desired oblivion ; the belief in the deliverer, who had turn-
ed liis back on liis high mission, seemed to have wrought
harm ; and hostility, both on a petty and on a grand scale,
Avas attacking the Prophet with new Aveapons and ncAV de-
termination. It followed that the spirit of contention and
self-vindication pierced more and more conspicuously in his
sermons ; that he Avas urged to meet the popular demands
not only by increased insistence and detail concerning visions
and private revelations, but by a tone of defiant confidence
against objectors ; and from having denounced the desire for
the miraculous, and declared that miracles had no relation to
true faith, he liad come to assert that at the right moment
the Divine power Avould attest the truth of his prophetic
preaching by a miracle. And continually, in the rapid tran-
sitions of excited feeling, as the vision of triumphant good re-
ceded behind the actual predominance of evil, the threats of
coming A'engeance against vicious tyrants and corrupt priests
gathered some impetus from personal exasperation, as well as
from indignant zeal. In the career of a great public orator
who yields himself to the inspiration of the moment, that con-
flict of selfish and unselfish emotion Avhich in most men is
17*
31)4 UOMOLA.
liiiMc'M in the cliambcr of tlio soul is brought into tcrrtMe
ovitK'iRH' : the language of the inner voices is written out in
letters of fire.
But if the tones of exasperation jarred on lioniola, there
was often another member of Fra Girulamo's audience to
whom they were the only thrilling tones, like the vibration
of deep bass notes to the deaf IJaldassarre had found out
tliat the wonderful Frate was preaching again, and as often
as he could he went to hear the Lenten sermon, that he might
drink in the threats of a voice which seemed like a ])ower on
the side of justice. lie went the more because he had seen
that Komoia went too; for lie was waiting and watching for
a time when not only outward cireum;-tanee, but his own
vai'viu'j: mental state, would mark the right moment for seek-
ing an interview with hei-. Twice ilomohi liad caught sight
of his face in the Duomo — once when its dark glance was
fixed on hers. She wished not to see it again, and yet she
looked for it, as men look for the rca|>pearance of a ])ortent.
But any revelation that might be yet to come about this old
man was a subordinate fear now : it referred, she thought,
only to the past, and her anxiety was almost absorbed by the
present.
Yet the stirring Lent passed by ; A])ril, the second and
final month of her godfather's supreme authority, was near
its close ; and nothing had occurred to fultill her presentiment.
Li the public mind, too, there had been fears, and rumors had
spread from Home of a menacing activity on the ])art of
Pieio de' Meilici ; but in a i'vw days the suspected Bernardo
would go out of power, llomola was trying to gather some
courage from the review of her futile fears, wiien on the
twenty-seventh, as she was walking out on her usual errands
of mercy in tlie afternoon, she was met by a messenger from
(.'amilla Ivucellai, chief among the feminine seers of Florence,
desiring her ])resence forthwith on matters of tlu' highest
moment, liomola, who shrank with uiu'onqueral)le disgust
from the shrill excit.ability of those illuminatele, Avhy, with his readiness to
})lementary seer of visions, Fra Sahestro.
Romola, kneeling Avith buried face on the altar -step,
was emluring one of those sickening moments when the en-
thusiasm Avhich had come to lier as the only energy strong
enough to make life worthy, seemey some iiiiiiu-iliatc Ix-iieficeiit action
revive that sense of worth in lile which at this nionu'iit was
unfed by any wider faith. But when she turned round slio
found herself face to face with a man who was standing only
tw J yards off lier. The man was JJaldassarre.
CllAlTEll LIII.
ON SAN M I N I A T O ,
"I WOULD speak witli you," said IJaldassarre, as Tvomols
looked at him in sih'iit expectation. It was plain that he
had ioUowed her, and had been waitiiiL;,- lor her. She was
goinu at last to know the secri-t about him.
" Yes," she said, with the same sort of submission that she
might liave shown under an imposed penance. "But you
wish to go where no one can liear us V"
" Where lie will not come u])on us," saiut
jvomola was not given to ))crsonal fi-ars, and she was ^rlad of
the distance that interposeil some delay before another blow
fell on her. The afternoon was far advanced, and the sun
was already low in the west, when she jtaused on some rough
ground in the shadow of the cypress trunks, and looked
round for Baldassarre. He was not far off, but when he
reached lu-r, he was glad to sink down on an edge of stony
L'arth. His thick-set fiame had no longer the sturdy vigor
which belonged to it when he tiist ap]tearitl with the rope
round him in the Duomo; a\id under the transient tremor
caused by the exertion of walking up the hill. Ids eyes seem-
ed to have a more helpless \ agueness.
"The hill is steep," said IJomola, with compassionate gen.
tleness, seating lierself by him, "and I fear you liave beei
weakened by want."
He turned his head and fixed his eyes on her in sileno
ROMOLA. 399
anable, now the moment for speech was come, to seize the
words that would convey the thought he wanted to utter:
and she remained as motionless as she could, lest he should
sujtpose her impatient. He looked like nothing higher than
a couxmon-bred, neglected old man ; but she was used now
to be very near to such people, and to think a great deal
about their troubles. Gradually his glance gathered a more
-ilefinite expression, and at last he said, with abrupt empha-
sis —
" Ah ! you would have been my daughter !"
The swift flush came in Romola's face and went back
again as swiftly, leaving her with white lips a little apart,
like a marble image of horror. For her mind this revelation
was made. She divined the facts that lay behind that single
word, and in the first moment there could be no check to the
impulsive belief which sprang from her keen experience of
Tito's nature. The sensitive response of her face was a stim-
ulus to Baldassarre ; for the first time his words had wrought
their right eftect. He went on with gathering eagerness
and firmness, laying his hand on her arm.
" You are a woman of proud blood — is it not true ? You
go to hear the preacher; you hate baseness — baseness that
smiles and triumphs. You hate your husband ?"
"O God! were you really his father?" said Romola, in
a low voice, too entirely possessed by the images of the past
to take any note' of Baldassarre's question. " Or was it as he
said? Did you take him when he was little?"
"Ah, you" believe me — you knoAV what he is!" said Bal-
dassarre, exultingly, tightening the pressure on her arm, as if
the contact gave him power. " You will help me ?"
"Yes," said Romola, not interpreting the words as lie
meant them. She laid her palm gently on the rough hand
that grasped her arm, and the tears came to her eyes as she
looked at him. "Oh! it is piteous! Tell me — why, you
were a great scholar ; you taught him. Hovi is it ?"
She broke oif. Tito's allegation of this man's madness had
come across her; and where were the signs even of past re-
finement ? But she had the self-command not to move her
hand. She sat perfectly still, waiting to listen with new cau-
tion.
" It is gone ! — it is all gone !" said Baldassarre ; " and
they would not believe me, because he lied, and said I was
mad; and they had me dragged to prison. And I am old
— my mind will not come back. And the world is against
me."
He paused a moment, and his eyes sank as if he were under
400 ROMOLA.
a wave of ilospomlcncy. Then he looked up at lier again, and
saiut you are not against me. He made you love him,
aiitl he lias been false to you; and you liate him. Yes, he
made nie love him : he "was beautiful and gentU', and I was
a lonely man. I took him when they were beating him. He
slej)t in my bosom when he was litlle, ami I watehed him as
he grew, and gave him all my knowU'dge, and every thing
that was mine I meant to be his. I had many things: mon-
ey, and books, and gems. He had my gems — he sold them;
and he left me in slavery. He never eame to seek me, and
when I came back ])Oor and in misery, he denied me. He
gaid I was a madman."
"He told us his father was dead — was drowned," said
Romola, iaintly. " Surely he must have believed it then.
Oh ! lie could not have been so base thenP''
A vision had risen of what Tito was to her in those first
days when she thought no more of wrong in him than a child
thinks of poison in flowers. The yearning regret that lay in
that memory brought some relief irom the tension of horror.
With one great sob the tears rushed forth.
" Ah, you are young, and the tears come easily," said Bal-
dassarre, with some imjiatience. "But tears arc no good: they
only put out the lire within, and it is the fire tliat Avorks.
Tears will hinder us. Listen to me."
Komola turned towards him with a slight start. Again
the possibility of las madness had darted through her mind,
and checked the rush of belief If, after all, this man were
only a mad assassin 'i But her deej) belief in his story still
lay behind, and it was more in sympathy than in fear that
she avoided the risk of paining him by any show of douht.
"Tell me," she said, as gently :is she could, "how did you
lose your memory — your scholarshii) V"
" I was ill. I can't tell how long — it was a blank. I re-
member nothing, only at last I was sitting in the sun among
the stones, and every thing else was darkness. And slowly,
and by degrees, I felt something besides that ; a longing for
something — T did not know what — that never came. And
when I was in the shi]) on the waters I began to know what
I longed lor: it was for the Boy to come back — it was to
find all niy thoughts again, for 1 w:'s locked away outside
thcTM ;dl. And I am outside now. 1 feel nothing but a Mall
;uid darkness."
Baldassarrehad become dreamy again, and sank into silence,
resting his head bctwi'cn his hands; and again Tiomola's be-
lief in him had submerged all cautionintr doubts. The pity
EOMOLA. 40 V
witli which she dwelt on liis words seemed like the revival
of an old pang. Had she not daily seen how her father miss-
ed Dino and the future he had dreamed of in that son ?
"It all came back once," Baldassarre went on presently.
" I was master of every thing. I saw all the world again,
and my gems, and my books ; and I thought I had him in
my power, and I went to expose him Avhere — where the lights
were and the trees ; and he lied again, and said I was mad,
and they dragged me away to prison Wickedness is
strong, and he wears armor."
The fierceness had flamed np again. He spoke with his
former intensity, and grasped Komola's arm again.
" But you Avill help me '? He has been folse to yon too.
He has another wife, and she has children. He makes her be-
lieve he is her husband, and she is a foolish, helj^less thing.
I will show you where she lives."
The first shock that passed through Roraola was visibly
one of anger. The woman's sense of indignity was inevitably
foremost. Baldassarre instinctively felt her in sympathy
W'ith him.
" You hate him," he went on. " Is it not true ? There is
no love between you ; I know that. I know women can hate ;
and you have proud blood. You hate falseness, and you can
love revensre."
Romola sat paralyzed by the shock of conflicting feelings.
She was not conscious of the grasp that was bruising her ten-
der arm.
"You shall contrive it," said Baldassarre, presently, in an
eager whisper. " I have learned by heart that you are his
rightful wife. You are a noble woman. You go to hear the
preacher of vengeance ; you will help justice. But you wall
think for me. My mind goes — every thing goes sometimes
—all but the fire. The fire is God : it is justice : it will not
die. You believe that — is it not true ? If they will not
hang him for robbing me, yoii will take away his armor —
you will make him go without it, and I Avill stab him. I
have a knife, and my arm is still strong enough."
He put his hand under his tunic, and reached out the hid-
Jan knife, feeling the edge abstractedly, as if he needed the
sensation to keep alive his ideas.
It seemed to Romola as if every fresh hour of her life were
to become more difficult than the last. Her judgment was
too vigorous and rapid for her to fall into the mistake of
using futile, deprecatory words to a man in Baldassarre's
state of mind. She chose not to answer his last speech.
She would win time for his excitement to allay itself by ask-
402 ROMOLA.
iii
cr tii'iiiuluusiy —
" You say slie is foolish and 1r'1j)1css — that other wife—
and believes liiiii to be her real husliand. IVrhaps he is:
peihajis he married her befoj-e he married iin-.''
"1 can not tell," said Jialdassarre, ])ausiii!^- in that action
trf feeling the knife, and looking bewiUlered. "I can remem-
ber no more. I only know whi-re she lives. You shall see
her. I will take you ; but iKjt now,"' he added, hurriedly,
"/ic may be there. The night is coming on."
" It 1:5 true," said IJonioJa, starting u]> with a sudden con-
sciousness that the sun had set, and the hills were darkening;
"but you will come and t.ike me — when?"
"In the morning," said Baldassarre, dreaming that sho,
too, wanted to huiry to her vengeance.
"Come to me, then, A\ hei'e you came to me to-day, in the
cliurch. 1 will be there at ten; and if you are not there, I
will go again towards mid-day. Can you remember?"
" JMid-day," said Baldassarre — " only mid-day. The same
place and mid-day. And, after that," he added, rising, and
grasping her arm again with his left liand, while he hehl the
knife in his right, " m'c will have our revenge. Ih' shall feel
the sharj) edge of justice. Tiie woild is against me, but you
uill help me."
"I would help you in other ways," said Uomola, making
a first timid elfort to dispel his illusion about her. " I fear
you are in want; you liave to labor and get little. I should
like to bring you comforts, and make you feel again that
there is some one who cares for you."
" Talk no more al)out that," said lialdassarre, fiercely. " I
will have nothing else. Help me to wring one drop of ven-
geance on this side of the grave. I liave nothing but my
knife. It is sharp ; but there is a moment after the thrust
when men sec the face of death — and it shall be my face
that he will see."
He loosed his hold, and sank down a-lier and higher along
witli the main current. It was less a resolve than a necessity
of her feeling. Heedless of the darkening streets, and not
caring to call for Maso's slow escort, she hurried across the
bridge where the river showed itself black before the distant
dying red, and took the most direct way to the Old Palace,
She might encounter her husband there. No matter. She
could not weigh probabilities ; she must discharge her heart.
She did not know what slie passed in the pillared court or up
the wide stairs ; she only knew that she asked an usher for
the Gonfaloniere, giving her name, and begging to be shown
into a private room.
She was not left long" alone with the frescoed figures and
the newly-lit tapers. Soon the door opened, and Bernardo
del Nero entered, still carrying his white head erect above his
silk In ceo.
" Romola, my child, Avhat is this ?" he said, in a tone of
anxious surprise, as he closed the' door.
She had uncovered her head and went towards him Avith-
out speaking. He laid his hand on her shoulder, and held
her a little away from him that he might see her better.
Pier face was haggard from fatigue and long agitation, her
hair had rolled down in disorder : but there was an excite-
ment in her eyes that seemed to have triumphed over the
bodily consciousness.
"What has he done?" said Bernardo, abruptly. "Tell me
every thing, child ; throw away pride. I am your father."
" It is not about myself — nothing about myself," said Ro-
mola, hastily. " Dearest godfather, it is about you. I have
heard things — some I can not tell you. But you are in dan-
ger in the palace ; you are in danger everywhere. There are
fanatical men Avho would harm you, and — and there are trai-
tors. Trust nobody. If you trust, you will be betrayed."
Bernardo smiled.
" Have you worked yourself up into this agitation, my
poor child," he said, raising his hand to her head, and patting
404 ROMOLA.
it ffi'iilly,*' to toll stich olossibility that she. had lost sight Ibr a long while
ot Buldassarre.
CHAPTER LV.
"WAITING.
Tin-: lengthening sunny days went on without bringing
eitlier what IJomolamost desired or what she most dreaded.
They brought no sign from Ivddassarre, and, in sjiite of spe-
cial watch on the ])art ot" the (iovennnent, no revelation of
the suspected consj»iracv. Ihit they brought other things
whicli touched her closely, and bridged the phantom-crowded
space of anxiety with activi' sympathy in inimMliate trial.
Thev brouuht the sijreadiiiu: Plague an 1 the Exconimunica-
tion of Savonarola.
Both those events tended to arrest lier incipient aliena-
tion from the Frate, and to livet again her attachment to the
man who hrtd opened to her the new lile of duty, and who
seemed now to be worsted in the tight for ])rinciple against
))rotligacy. For Romola could not carry iroin day to day
into the abodes of pestilence and misery the sublime excite-
ment of a gladness that, sinc3 such anguish existed, slie too
existed to make some of the anguish less bitter, without re-
membering that she owed this transcendent moral life to
Fra (iirolamo. She could not witness the silencing and ex-
communication of a man whose distinction from the great
mass of the clergy lay, not in any heretical belief, not in his
su])erstitions, but in the energy witli which he sought to
make the Cliristian life a reality, without feeling herself
tlrawn strf)ngly to his side.
It was i'ar on in the hot days olJune before the Excom
munication, ibr some weeks ariived from Pome, was solemn
ly p»il)lished in the Duomo. liomola went to witness the
scene, that the resistance it inspired miglit in\igorate that
8ymj>atliy with Savonarola which was one source of her
strength, it was in memorable contrast with tlie scene she
had been accnstnmcd to witness there. Instead of upturned
citizen-faces tilling the vast area under the morning light.
ROMOLA. 407
the youngest rising amphitheatre-Avise towards the walls,
and making a garland of hope around the memories of age
— instead ot the mighty voice thrilling all hearts with the
sense of great things, visible and invisible, to be struggled for
— there were the bare walls at evening made more sombre
bv the glimmer of tapers ; there was the black and gray
flock of monks and secular clergy, with bent, unexpectant
faces; there was the occasional tinkling of little bells in the
pauses of a monotonous voice reading a sentence which had
already been long hanging up in the churches ; and at last
there was the extinction of tapers, and the slow, shufHing
tread of monkish feet departing in the dim silence.
Romola's ardor on the side of the Frate was doubly
strengthened liy the gleeful triumph she saw in hard and
coarse faces, and by the fear-stricken confusion in the faces
and speech of many among his strongly attached friends.
Tlie question where the ut Romola requiivd n strength zli.it neutrality could
not give ; and this Excommunication, which simj)litied and
cnnolWcd tlie resistant position of Savonarola by bringing
into prominence its wider relations, seemed to come to her
like a rescue irom the threatening isolation of criticism and
doubt. The Frate was now withdrawn from that smaller
antagonism against Florentine enemies into wlii;-h he contiii-
ually fell in the unchecked excitement oftlie pulpit, and j)rc-
sented himself simply as appealing to the Christian world
against a vicious exercise of ecclesiastical power. He was a
standard-bearer leaping into the breach. Life never seems so
clear and easy as when the heart is beating faster at the sight
of some generous, self-risking deed. We feel no doubt then
Avhat is the highest ju'ize the soul can Avin ; we almost be-
lieve in oui" own power to attain it. And by a new eui'ivni;
of such enthusiasm Romola was helped through these diffi-
cult summer days.
tSlie had ventured on no words to Tito that would ajjjirise
liim of her late interview with Jialdassarre,and the revelation
lie had made to her. AVhat would such agitating, difficult
words win fi'om him? No admission of the truth ; nothing,
probably, but a cool sarcasm about her sympathy with his as-
Kassin. Baldassarre was evidently helpless: the thing to be
feared was, not that he should injure Tito, but that Tito,
coming upon his traces, should carry out some new scheme
for riddinir himself of the injured man who was a haunting
dread to him. Komola felt that she could do nothing decis
ive U!>til she had seen IJaldassarre again, and learned the full
truth about that " other wife " — learned whether she wi-ie the
•wife to whom Tito was first bound.
The possibilitii'S about that other wife, which involved the
worst wound to her hereditary ])ride, mingled themselves as
a newly embitteriiig suspicion with the earliest memories of
her illusory love, eating away the lingering associations of
temlerness with the ]»ast image of her husband ; and her ir-
resistible Inlief in the rest of IJaldassarre's revelation made
her shrink from Tito with a horror which would perhaj)shave
nrged some ]»assionate s]»ei'(h in spite of herself if he hail not
been more than usually absent from home. J^ike many of the
wealthier citizens in that time of pestilence, he spent the in-
tervals of business chiefly in the country : the agreeable Mele-
ma was welcome at many villas; and since Komola had re-
fuseil to leave the city, he had no need to j)rovide a country
residence of his own.
Ibit at last, in the later days of July, the alleviation of
thosw ])ublic troubles A'hich bad absorbed her activity nnd
ROMOLA. 409
much of her thouglit, leftRoraola to a less counteracted sense
of her personal lot. The Plague had almost disappeared, and
the position of Savonarola was made more hopeful by a fa-
vorable magistracy, who were writing urgent vindicatory let-
ters to Rome on his belialf, entreating the withdrawal of the
Excommunication.
Romola's healthy and vigorous frame was undergoing the
reaction of languor inevitable after continuous excitement
and over-exertion ; but her mental restlessness would not al-
low her to remain at home without peremptory occupation,
except during the sultry hours. In the cool of the morning
and evening she walked out constantly, varying her direction,
as much as possible, w-ith the vague hope that if Baldassarre
were still alive she might encounter him. Perhaps some ill-
ness had brought a new paralysis of memory, and he had for-
gotten where she lived — forgotten even her existence. That
was her most sanguine explanation of his non-appearance.
The explanation she felt to be most probable was, that he had
died of the Plague.
CHAPTER LYI.
THE O T II E K WIFE,
The morning warmth was already beginning to be rather
oppressive to Romola, wdien, after a walk along by the Avails
on her way from San Marco, she turned towards the intersect-
incc streets ao;ain at the gate of Santa Croce.
The Borgo La Croce was so still that she listened to her
own footsteps on the pavement in the sunny silence, until, on
approaching a bend in the street, she saw, a few yards before
her, a little child not more than three years old, with no otlier
clothing than his Avhite shirt, pause from a waddling I'un and
look around him. In the first moment of coming nearer she
could only see his back — a boy's back, square and sturdy, Avith
a cloud of reddish-brown curls above it ; but in the next he
turned towards her, and she could see his dark eyes Avide Avith
tears, and his lower lip pushed up and trembling, Avhile his
fat brown fists clutched his shirt lielplessly. The glimpse of
a tall black figure sending a shadow over him brought his be-
Avildered fear to a climax, and a loud crying sob sent the big
tears rolling.
Romola, Avith the ready maternal instinct Avhich Avas one-
hidden source of her passionate tenderness, instantly uncove?--
ed her head, and, stooping down on the pavement, put her
IS
410
UO.MOLA.
arms round liiin, and licr clici-k against his, while she Ppuko
to him in carcssinu; tones. At iirst liis sobs wore only the
louder, hut he made no ellbrt to get away, and jiresently tho
oiitl)urst erased with that strange ahruittncss whieh belong?
to ehildish joys and grids: hislaee lost its ilistc^tion, and was
fixed in an open-moutheil gaze at llomola.
"You have lost yoursell', little one," she said, kissing him.
" Never mind ! we will lind the house again. I'erhaps mam-
ma will meet us."
She divined that lie had made his escape at a moment
when the motlu'r''s eyes were turned away from him, and
thought it liki'ly that he Avould soon be ibllowed.
"Oh, what a heavy, lieavy boy!" she said, trying to lift
liim. " I can not carry you. Come, then, you must toJdlii
back by my side." ,
- .It/-
The parted lips remained motionless in awed silence, and
one brown list still clutched the shirt M"ith as much tenacity
jjsever; but the other yielded itself quite willingly to the
wonderful white hand, strong but soft.
" Vou Ikiiu' :i mamma?" said Itomola, as they set out,
looking down at the boy with a certain yearning, liut hj
BOxMOLA. 411
■was mute. A girl under those circumstances might perhaps
have cliirped abundantly ; not so this square-shouldered lit-
tle man with the big cloud of curls.
He was awake to the first sign of his whereabout, liow-
ever. At the turning by the front of San Ambrogio he drag-
ged Romola towards it, looking up at her.
"Ah, that is the way home, is it?" she said, smiling at
him. He only thrust his head forward and pulled, as an
admonition that they should go foster.
There was still another turning that he had a decided
opmion about, and then Romola found herself in a short street
leading to open garden ground. It was in front of a house
at the end of this street that the little fellow paused, pulling
her towards some stone stairs. He had evidently no wish
for her to loose his hand, and she would not have been wil-
ling to leave him without being sure that she was delivering
him to his friends. They mounted the stairs, seeing but
dimly in that sudden withdrawal from the sunligiit, till, at
the final landing-place, an extra stream of light came from
an open doorway. Passing through a small lobby they came
to another open dooi", and there Romola paused. Her ap-
proach had not been heard.
On a low chair at the farther end of the room, opposite
the light, sat Tessa, with one hand on the edge of the cradle,
and her head hanging a little on one side, fast asleep. Near
one of the windows, with her back turned towards the door,
sat IMonna Lisa at her work of preparing salad, in deaf un-
consciousness. There was only an instant for Romola's eyes
to take in that still scene; for Lillo snatched his hand away
from her and ran up to his mother's side, not making any di-
rect eflx)rt to wake her, but only leaning his head back against
her arm, and surveying Romola seriously from that distance.
As Lillo pushed against her ^essa opened her eyes, and
iooked up in bewilderment ; but her glance had no sooner
rested on the figure at the opposite doorway than she start-
ed up, blushed deeplj^ and began to tremble a little, neither
S'jeaking nor movino; forward.
"Ah! we have seen each other before," said Romola,
smiling, and coming forward. "I am glad it was your little
boy. He was crying in the street ; I supj)ose he had run
away. So Ave walked together a little way, and then he
knew where he was, and bi-ought me here. But you had not
missed him? Tliat is well, else you would have been fright-
ened."
The shock of finding that Lillo had run away overcame
every other I'celing in Tessa fur the moment. Her color went
412 KOitULA.
ai^alii aii<], scizijii^ LiIlo*s arm, she ran with Iiiiii to Moiina
Lisa, sayiiiLT, with a halt-soh, hnul in thi' <.»lil woniairs car —
" Oh, Lisa, yuu are wickiil I Why %\ ill yt>vi stand with
your back to tiic door V Lillo ran away ever so far into tho
fcitrci't."
"Holy Mother !" said Monna Lisa, in lur iiuvk, tliick tone,
letting tlie spoon fall from her hands. "Where were you^
then '{ I thoui^ht you were there, and had your eye on him.*'
' "Hut you ktuno I jjo to sleep when I am rocking," said
Tessa, in pettish remonstrance.
"Well, well, we must keep tho outer door sliut, or else tie
him uj),'' sai»l ^lonna Lisa, "for he'll he as cunning as Satan
before long, and that's the holy truth, iiut how came he
back, thenV"
This (piestion recalled Tessa to the consciousness of Ko-
niola's jtresencc. Without answering, she turned towards
her, blushing ami tiniid again, and Monna Lisa's eyes followed
her movement. The old Avoman made a low reverence, and
said,
" Doubtless the most noble lady brought him Ijack.''
Tlien advancing a little nearer to Komola,she added, "It's
my shame lor him to have been found with oidy his shirt on ;
but he kicked, and wouldn't have his other clothes on this
morning, and the mother, ])oor thing ! m ill never hear of his
being beaten. IJut what's an old woman to do without a
stick when the lad's legs get so strong? Let your nobleness
look at his legs."
Lillo, conscious that his legs were in question, pulled his
shirt up a little highei", and looked down at their olive round-
ness with a dispassionate and curitius air. IJomola laughed,
and stooped to give him a caressing shake and a kiss, and
this action helped the reassurance that Tessa had already
jrathere(l iVom Monna Usa's address to Koinola. Foi' when
Kaldo had been told about the adventure at the Carnival,
and Tessa had asked him m ho the heavenly lady that had
come just Avhen she Avas Avanttvl, and had vanished so soon,
Avas likely to be — whether she couhl l)e the Holy ^ladomia
herself? — ho haIi'as;uit, was llii' uprootiiit; of
aocial ami ]UMSonal virtue. What else had Tito's erime
towards Baldassarre been but that abandonment workini;
itself out to the most hideous extreme of falsity and ingrati-
tude ?
And the inspiring consciousness breathed into her by Sa*
vonarola's inilueiiee that her lot was vitally united with the
general lot had exalted even the minor details of obligation
into religion. She was marching with a great ai'my ; she was
feeling the stress of a common life. If victims were needed,
and it was uncertain on whom the lot might iall, she would
stand ready to answer to her name. tShe had stood long ;
sho luul striven hard to fullill the bond ; l)ut she had seen all
the conditions which made the fulfillment possible gradually
forsaking her. The one effect of her nianiage-tie seemed to
be the stitling predominance over her of a nature that she de-
spised. All iier efforts at union had only made its impossi-
bility more palpable, and the relation had become for her
simjily a degrading servitude. The law was sacred. Yes,
l»ut rebellion might be s:;* red too. It Hashed upon her mind
that the problem before her was essentially the same as that
which ha — who was banishod, has hoon soi/ed williiii llio terri-
tory : a letter has been fouiul on hini of very dangerous ini
port to tlie cliief .Mediceans, and the st-oundri'l, who was once
u favorite hound of I'iero de' ^ledici, is jvaily now to swear
what any one pleases against him or his friends. Some have
uiade their escape, but live are now in prison."
"My godlather?" said Itomola, scarcely above a whisper,
js Tito made a slight pause.
'' Yes ; I grieve to say it. But along with him there are
tliree, at least, whose namt's have a commanding interest even
among the popular party — Niccolo Kidolli, Lorenzo Torna-
Luoni, and Giannozzo Pucci."
The tide of Komola's leelings liad been violently turned
into a new channel. In the tumult of that moini-nt there
could be no check to the words which came as tlu- imi)ulsive
utterance of lier long-accumulating horror. When Tito had
named the men of whom she felt certain he was the conted-
erate, she said, with a recoiling gesture and low-toned bitter-
ness,
" And you — you are safe ?"
"You are certainly an amiable wife, my Romola," said
Tito, with the coldest irony. "Yes; I am safe."
They turned away from each other in silence.
CHAPTER LVII.
•WHY J I T O WAS SAFE,
Ttto had good reasons for saying that he was safe. Tn tfie
last three months, leasant consequences of acting
against his frii-nds, he nnist be assured of immunity from
any prosecution as a Medicean, and fiom dejirivation ofofiice
for a year to couu".
These propositions did not sound in the ear of Francesco
Valori j)recisely as they sound to us. \'alori's mind was
not intensely bent on the estimation of Tito's conduct: and
it was intensely bent on ])rocuring an extreme sentence
against the five prisoners. There were sure to l)e immense
efforts to save Ihcm; and it was to be wished (on jiublic
groumls) tliat the evidence against them should bt; of the
strongest, so as to alarm all well-aifected nun :it the dangers
of clemency. The character of legal proceeding- at that
ROMOLA. 423
time implied that evidence was one of those desirable things
which could only be come at by foul means. To catch a
few people and torture them into confessing every body's
guilt was one step towards justice ; and it was not always
easy to see the next unless a traitor turned up. Lamberto
deir Antella had been tortured in aid of his previous willing-
ness to tell more than he knew ; nevertheless, additional and
stronger facts were desirable, especially against Bernardo
del Nero, who, so far as appeared hitherto, had simply re-
frained from betraying the late plot after having tried in
vain to discourage it ; for the welfare of Florence demanded
that the guilt of Bernardo del Nero should be put in the
strongest light. So Francesco Valori zealously believed ;
and perhapshe was not himself aware that the strength of
his zeal was determined by his hatred. He decided that Tito's
proposition ought to be accepted, laid it before his colleagues
without disclosing Tito's name, and Avon them over to his
opinion. Late in the day Tito was admitted to an audience
of the Special Council, and produced a deep sensation among
them by revealing another plot for insuring the mastery of
Florence to Pierode' Medici, which Avas to have been carried
into execution in the middle of this very month of August.
Documentary evidence on this subject Avould do more than
any thing else to make the right course clear. He received
a commission to start for Siena by break of day ; and, be-
sides this, he carried away AA^th him from the council-cham-
ber a Avritten guaranty of his immunity and of his retention
of office.
Among the twenty Florentines who bent their grave eyes
on Tito, as he stood gracefully before them, speaking of star-
tling things Avith easy periphrasis, and Avith that apparently
unatiected admission of being actuated by motives short of
the highest Avhich is often the intensest affectation, there Avere
several Avhosc minds Avere not too entirely preoccupied for
them to pass a new judgment on him in these new circum-
stances ; they silently concluded that this ingenious and ser-
viceable Greek Avas in future rather to be used for public
needs than for private intimacy. Unprincipled men A\'ere
useful, enabling those Avho had more scruples to keep their
hands tolerably clean in a world Avliere there Avas much dirty
Avork to be done. Indeed, it Avas not clear to respectable
Florentine brains, unless they held the Frate's extravagant
belief in a possible purity and loftiness to be striven for on
this earth, how life Avas to be carried on in any department
Avithout human instruments Avhom it Avould not be unbecom-
ing to kick or to spit upon in the act of handing them theii
424 nOMOLA.
wasxos. Somo of llu'sc very men wlio jiasscd :i tacit juernai(lo del Nero; ho
had a jjcrsonal liking for Lorenzo '^I'ornabuoni and (iiovanni
Piicci. Hi' had served them very ably, and in such a way
that if their party had been winners he would have meritet,!
hiirh reward; but was he to relincjuish all the agreeable
fruits of life because their ])arty liaeal. Their resistance pit'
vailed, and a midille course was taken : the sentence was ret
KOMOLA. 427
ferret! to a large assembly convened on the seventeenth, con-
sistino- of all the his/her raasristracies, the smaller council or
genate of eighty, and a select number of citizens.
On this day Komola, Avith anxiety heightened by the pos-
sibility that before its close her godfather's fate might be de-
cided, had obtained leave to see him for the second time, but
cnly in the presence of witnesses. She had returned to the
V^ia de' Bardi in company with her cousin Brigida, still igno-
rant w^hether the councd had come to any decisive issue ; and
Monna Brisrida had oone out again to await the momentous
news at the house of a friend belonging to one of the magis-
tracies, that she might bring back authentic tidings as soon
as they were to be had.
Roraola had sunk on the first seat in the bright saloon, too
much agitated, too sick at heai't to care about her place, or be
conscious of discordance in the objects that surrounded her.
She sat with her back to the door, resting her head on her
hands. It seemed a long while since Monna Brigida had
gone, and Romola was expecting her return. But Avhen the
ftooi* opened she knew it was not Monna Brigida who en-
tered.
Since she had parted from Tito on that memorable night
Bhe had had no external proof to warrant her belief that he
had won his safety by treachery ; on the contrary, she had
had evidence that he Avas still trusted by the Mediceans, and
was believed by them to be accomplishing certain errands of
theirs in Romagna, under cover of fulfilliftg a commission of
the Government. For the obscurity in which the evidence
concerning the conspirators was shrouded allowed it to be
understood that Tito had escaped any implication.
But Romola's susjiicion was not to be dissij)ated : her hor-
ror ofhis conduct towards Baldassarre projected itself over
every conception of his acts ; it was as if slie had witnessed
him committing a murder, and had had a diseased imj^ression
ever after that his hands were covered with fresh blood.
As she heard his step on the stone floor a chill shudder
passed through her; she could not turn round, she could not
rise to give any greeting. He did not speak, but after an in-
stant's pause took a seat on the other side of the table just
opposite to her. Then she raised her eyes and looked at him ;
but she was mute. He did not show any irritation, but said,
" This meeting corresponds with our parting, Romola.
But I understand that it is a moment of terrible suspense. I
am come, however, if you will listen to me, to bring you the
relief of hope."
428 llOMOLA.
She started, ami altered lier position, but looked at liira
dubiously.
'' It will not be unwelcome to you to liear — even tlioagh
it is I who tell it — that the council is proroLjued till the tweu-
ty-tirst. The Ei;j;ht have been frightened at last into passing
a sentence ot" condemnation, but the denuuul lias now been
made on behalf of the condemned lor an appeal to the (Ireat
Council."
Komola's face lost its dubious expression ; she asked,
eaijerly,
"And when is it to l)e made?"
" It has not yet been granted ; but it may be granted.
The council is to meet again on the twenty-first to deliber-
ate whether the appeal sliall be allowed or not. In the mean
time tlu'i-i' is ail interval of three days in which chances may
occur ill favor of the prisoners — in which interest may be
used on their l)ehalt."
liomola started from her seat. The color haknowi-
edcre that the Frate has so far interfered as to send a messaore
to liim in favor of Lorenzo Tornabuoni. I know you can
sometimes have access to the Frate : it might at all events be
worth while to use vour pi-ivile<2;e now."
" It is true," said Komola, Avith an air of abstraction. " I
can not believe that the Frate would apj^rove denying the
appeal."
" I heard it said by more than one person in the court of
the Palazzo, before I came away, that it would be to the ever-
lasting discredit ofFra Girolamo if he allowed a govei'nment
which is almost entirely made up of his party, to deny the
appeal, without entering his protest, when he has been boast-
ing in his books and sermons that it was he Avho got the law
passed.* But, between ourselves, with all respect for your
Frate's ability, my Romola, he had got into the practice of
preaching that form of human sacrifices called killing tyrants
and wicked malcontents which some of his followers are likely
to think inconsistent with lenity in the present case."
" I know, I know," said Komola, with a look and tone of
pain. "But he is driven into those excesses of S2:)eech. It
used to be different. I vrill ask for an interview. I can not
rest without it. I trust in the greatness of his heart."
She was not looking at Tito ; her eyes were bent with a
vague gaze towards the ground, and she had no distinct con-
sciousness that the words she heard came from her hnshand.
" Better lose no time, then," said Tito, with unmixed suavi-
ty, moving his cap round in his hands as if he were about to
put it on and depart. " And now, Komola, you will pei'haps
be able ta see, in spite of prejudice, that my wishes go with
yours in this matter. You will not regard the misfortune
of my safety as an offense."
Something like an electric shock passed through Romola:
it was the full consciousness of her husband's presence re-
turning to her. She looked at him without speaking.
"At least," he added, in a slightly harder tone, "you will
endeavor to base our intercourse on some other reasoning
* Tlie most recent, and in several respects tlie best, hiographer of Savonaro-'
la, Signer Villari, endeavors to sliow that the Law of Ajipeal ultimately en-
acted, being wider than the law originally contemplated by Savonarola, was a
source of bitter annoyance to him, as a contrivance of the aristocratic jjarty
for attaching to the measures of the popular government the injurious results
of license. But in taking this view tl>e estimable" biographer lost sight of the
fact that, not only in his sermons but in a deliberately prepared book Tthc
Couipencliuiii licvclationuiii) written long after the Ap])eal luid become law.
Savonarola enumerates among the benefits secured to Florence, " ?//r A/ippfii
from the Six Votes, adcocattd by vie, for the (jreatcr security of the citizeus."
430 KOMOIA.
tlmn that hccause an evil dood is possible, / liave done it.
Am I ;il<»iie to be beyond the pule ofyour extensive eh:irity V"
The feeling which had been driven back I'loiii Koniola'a
lips a fortnijjjht before rose again with the gathered force of
a tidal wave. Slie spoke with a decision which told him that
she was careless of consequences.
" It is too late, Tito. There is no killing the suspicion that
deceit has once begotten. And now I know every thing. I
know who that old man Avas : he was yt)ur lather, to whom
you owe every thing — to whom you owe more than if you
had been his oAvn child. ]>y the siirator, and then you will iiilbiiu the Medi-
ceans that I have betrayed them, and in both cases you will
ofter the excellent ]iroof that you believe me cajiablc in gen-
eral of every thing bad. It will certaiidy be a striking posi-
tion for a Avife to adopt. And if, on such evidence, you suc-
ceed in holding me up to infamy, you will have sur])assed all
the heroines of the (ireek drama."
He paused a moment, Init she stood mute. lie went on
with the sense of mastery.
"I believe you have no other grievance against me except
that 1 have i'ailed in fulfilling somi' lolty indefinite conditions
on which you gave me your wifely iiffection, so that, by with-
drawing it, you have gradually reduced me to the careful
su]ij>ly of your wants as a fair Piagnone of high condition and
liberal charities. I think your succ(>ss in gibbeting me in
not certain. Uut (biubtless you would begin by winning the
ear of INIesser liernarch* del Nero V"
KOMOLA. 4ol
" Why do I speak of any thing ?" cried Romola, in anguislj,
sinking on her chair again. " It is hateful in me to be tliink-
ing of myself!"
She did not notice Avhen Tito left the room, or know how
long it was before the door opened to admit Monna Brigida.
But in that instant she started up and said,
" Cousin, we must go to San Marco directly. I must see
ray confessor, Fra Salvestro."
CHAPTER LIX.
PLEADIXG.
TriE morning was in its early brightness when Romola was
again on her Avay to San Marco, having obtained through Fra
Salvestro, the evening before, the promise of an interview
with Fra Girolamo in the chapter-house of tlie convent. The
rigidity with which Savonarola guarded his life from all the
pretexts of calumny made such interviews very rare, and
whenever they were granted, they were kept free from any
appearance of mystery. For this reason the hour chosen
was one at which there were likely to be other visitors in
the outer cloisters of San Marco.
She chose to pass through the heart of the city that she
might notice the signs of public feeling. Every loggia, every
convenient corner of the piazza, every shop that made a ren-
dezvous for gossips, Avas astir with the excitement of gratu-
itous debate ; a languishing trade tending to make political
discussion all the more vigorous. It was clear that the par-
ties for and against the death of the conspirators were bent
on making tlie fullest use of the three days' interval in order
to determine the popular mood. Already hand-bills were in
circulation ; some presenting, in large print, the alternative
of justice on the conspirators or ruin to the republic, others,
in equally large print, urging the observance of the law and
the granting of the Appeal. Round those jutting islets of
black capitals there were lakes of smaller characters setting
forth arguments less necessary to be read ; for it was an
opinion entertained at that time (in the first flush of triumph
at the discovery of printing), that there was no argument
more widely convincing than question-begging phrases in
large type.
Romola, however, cared especially to become acquainted
with the arguments in smaller type, and, though obliged to
hasten forward, she looked round anxiously as she went, that
432 IIOMOLA.
rIio miixlit miss no ojijiortiinity of sccnrint; copies. For a
loiii; way t<)ie saw noiu' but siicli us wuic in tlii' liauds of i-a-
gcr reatlcrs, or else tixed <>ii the walls, liom which in some
jjlaci'S the sl>irri weiv teariiiLT tlie'iii down, lint at last, |>ass-
iiiLj Ijc'hiiul San Giovanni with a quickcnotl pace, that she
inii^ht avoid the many acquaintances who frccjuentcMl the
pia/za, she saw liratti with a stock of liand-hills, which he
apjicared to be cxchani^iuLj ibr small coin with the passers-
iby. She was too familiar with the humble life of Florence
•for Bratti to be any stranjiccr to her, and, turning towards
him, slie said, " Have you two sorts of liand-bills, IJratti ?
Let me Irxve them (piickly."
"Two sorts," said Hra'tti, separatint; the wet sheets with
u sbjwncss that tried Komola's i)atience. "There''s 'Law,'
and there's 'Justice.'"
" Which sort do you sell most of?"
"'Justice' — 'Justice' goes the quickest; so I raised the
price, and made it two danarl. Hut then I bethouLcht me
the ' Law ' was good ware too, aiyl had as good a right to be
cliarged for as 'Justice;' for people set no store by clieap
things; and, if I sold the 'Law' at one danaro, I sliould bo
doing it a Avrong. And Fm a fair trader. 'Law' or 'Jus-
tice,' it's all one to me ; tliey're good wares. I got 'em both
lor nothing, and I sell 'em at a lair protit. But you'll want
more than one of a sort V"
"No, no: here's a white quattrino for the two," said Ko-
mola, folding up the bills and hurrying away.
She was soon in the outer cloisters of San ]Marco, wliero
Fia Salvestro was awaiting her under the cloister, but dirld. The
thought of him has gone together witli the thought of my
fatlier as long as I remember the daylight. Tli.it is my war-
rant for coming to you, even if my coming should have been
needless. Perliaps it is : perha])S you have already deter-
mined that your power over the hearts of men sh.'iU be used
to prevent them from denying to Florentines a riglit which
you yourself heljied to earn for them.''^
" i meddle not with the functions of the State, my daugh-
tor," said Fra Girolamo, strongly disinclined to ivoi)en ex-
ternally a debate which he had already gone through in-
w.u-dly. " I have preached and labored that Florence should
have a good government, for a good government isv needful
to the ])('rfecting of the Christian life; but I keep away my
liands from jjarticular atfairs, which it is the ollice of e.vperi-
enced citizens to administer."
" Surely, fither — " Ifomola broke off. She had uttered
this lirst word almost imj)etuously, but she was checked by
the counter agitation of feeling herself in an attitude of re-
monstrance towards the man who had been the source of
guidance and strength to licr. In the act of rebelling she
was l)ruising her own reverence.
Savonarola was too keen not to divine something of the
conrtict that was arresting lier — too noble deliberately to as-
sume in calm speech that self-justifying evasiveness into
which he was often hurried in public by the crowding im-
pulses of the orator.
"Say what is in your heart ; s]>eak on, my daughter," he
paid, standing with his arms laid one uj)on the other, and
looking at her with (piiet expectation.
" I was going to say, fitlier, that this matter is siirely of
liigher moment than many about which I have heard you
])reach and exliort fervidly. If it belonged to you to urge
that men condemned for offenses against the State shouhl
have the right to ajipeal to the Great Council — if" — Komola
BOMOLA. 435
was getting eager again — " if you count it a glory to have
won that right for them, can it less belong to you to declare
yourself against the right being denied to almost the first
men who need it ? Surely that touches the Christian life
more closely than whether you knew beforehand that the
Dauphin would die, or A>^hether Pisa will be conquered."
There was a subtle movement, like a subdued sign of pain^
in Savonarola's strong lips, before lie began to speak.
" My daughter, I speak as it is given me to speak — I am
not master of the times Avhen I may become the vehicle of
knowledo;e bevond the common lio-hts of men. In this case
I have no illumination beyond what wisdom may give to
those who are charged with the safety of the State. As to
the law of Appeal against the Six Votes, I labored to have
it passed in order that no Florentine should be subject to
loss of life and goods through the private hatred of a few
who might happen to be in power ; but these five men, who.
have desired to overthrow a free government and restore a
corrupt tyrant, have been condemned with the assent of a
large assembly of their fellow-citizens. They refused at first
to have their cause brought before the Great Council. They
have lost the right to the appeal.
"How can they have lost it?" said Romola. "It is the
right to appeal against condemnation, and they have never
been condemned till now; and, forgive me, fiither, it is pri-
vate hatred that woiild deny them the appeal ; it is the vio-
lence of the few that frightens others; else why was the as-
sembly divided again directly, after it had seemed to agree?
And if any thing weighs against the observance of the law,
let this Aveigh^/b?' it — this, that you used to preach more ear-
nestly than all else, that there should be no place given to
hatred and bloodshed because of these party strifes, so that
private ill-will should not find its opportunities in public
acts. Father, you know that there is private hatred concern-
ed here : will it not dishonor you not to have interposed on
the side of mercy, when thei'e are many who hold that it is
also the side of law and justice ?"
" My :hanghter," said Fra Girolamo, with more visible
emotion than before, " there is a mercy which is weakness,
and even treason against the common good. The safety of
Florence, which means even more than the welfare of Flor'
entines, now demands severity, as it once demanded mercy.
It is not only for a past plot that these men are condemned,
but also for a plot which has not yet been executed; and
the devices that were leading to its execution are not put an
end to : the tyrant is still gathering his forces in Romagna j
43G ROMOLA.
and the cnoniios of Florence, tliat sit In tlie liii^Iiest places of
Italy, aiv ready to hurl any stone that will crush her."
" Wliat plot ?" said llomola, reddening, and trembling with
nlaniu'il sur]»rise.
*' Wiu carry ])apers in your hand, I sec," said Fra Girolamo,
pointing to the hand-bills, " One of them will, perhaps, tell
you tliat the (Government has had new infbrnuition."
Uumula hastily opened the hand-l)ill she had not yet read,
uiu\ saw that the Government had now positive evidence of'a
second plot, which was to have been carried out in this Au-
gust time. To her mind it was like reading a confirmation
that Tito had won his salcty by I'oul means; his pretense of
wishing that the Frate should exert himself on behalf of the
condt-mned only hel|>ed the Avretched conviction. She crush-
ed up the j)aj)er in her hand, and, turning to Savonarola, she
said, with new passion, " Father, Avliat safety can there be for
Florence when the worst man can always escape? And,"
she went on, a sudden flash of remembrance coming from the
thought aljout her husl)and, '• have not you yourself encour-
aged this deception, which corrupts the life of Florence, by
wanting more favor to be shown to Lorenzo Tornabuoni, who
has worn two faces, and flattered yon Avilh a show of affec-
tion, when my godfather has always been lionest ? Ask all
F'lorencc who of those five men has the truest heart, and there
Avill not be many who m ill name any other name than Jier-
nardo del Nero. Vou did iMter)>ose with Francesco Valori
for the sake of one prisoner : you have 7iot then been neutral ;
and you know that your word will be ])owerful."
"I do not desire the death of Jiernardo," said Savonarola,
coloring deeply. " It woulel be enough if he were sent out
of the city."
"•Then why do yon not speak to save an old man of seven-
ty-five from dying a death of ignominy — to give him at least
the fair chances of the law ?" burst out liomola, the impet-
uosity of iier nature so I'oused that she forgot every thing
but her indignation. " It is not that you ieel bound to be
neutral; else, why did you speak for Lorenzo Tornabuoni?
You s])oke for him because he is more friendly to San IMarco;
my godl'ather feigns no friendship. It is not, then, as a Medi-
cean that my godfather is to die ; it is as a man you have
no love for !"
When Ikomola ]tause(l, with cheeks glowing, and with (piiv-
ering lips, tlu're was dead silence. As she saw Fra (ilirolamo
fitamling motionless before her, she seemed to herself to be
hearing her own Avords over again ; words that seemed in
this echo of consciousness to be in strange, painful dissonance
ROMOLA. 437
witfi the memories that made part of his presence to her.
The moments of silence were expanded by gathering com-
punction and self-doubt. She had committed sacrilege in
her passion. And even the sense that she could retract
nothing of her plea, that her mind could not submit itself to
Savonarola's negative, made it the more needful to her to
satisfy those reverential memories. With a sudden move-
ment towards him, she said :
" Forgive me, father ; it is pain to me to have spoken
those words — yet I can not help speaking. I am little and
feeble compared with you ; you brought me light and strength.
But I submitted because I felt the proffered strength— be-
cause I saw the light. JSfoio I can not see it. Father, you
yourself declare that there comes a moment when the soul
must have no guide but the voice Avithin it to tell whether
the consecrated thing has sacred virtue. And therefore I
must speak."
Savonarola had that readily roused resentment towards
opposition, hardly separable from a power-loving and pow-
erful nature, accustomed to seek great ends that cast a reflect-
ed grandeur on the means by wliich they are sought. His
sermons have much of that red flame in them. And if he
had been a meaner man, his susceptibility might have shown
itself in irritation at Romola's accusatory freedom, which was
in strong contrast with the deference lie habitually received
from his disciples. But at this moment such feelings were
nullified by that hard struggle which made half the tragedy
of his life — the struggle of a mind possessed by a never-si-
lent hunger after purity and simplicity, yet caught in a tan-
gle of egoistic demands, false ideas, and diflicult outward
conditions that made simplicity impossible. Keenly alive to
all the suggestions of Romola's remonstrating words, he was
rapidly surveying, as he had done before, the courses of action
that were open to him, and their probable results. But it
was a question on which argiiments could seem decisive only
in proportion as they w^ere charged with feeling, and he had
received no impulse that could alter his bias. He looked at
Romola,and said :
" You have full pardon for your frankness, my daughter.
You speak, I know, out of the fullness of your family affec-
tions. But these affections must give way to the needs of
the republic. If those men, who have a close acquaintance
with the affiairs of the State, believe, as I iinderstand they
do, that the public safety requires the extreme punishment
of the law to fall on those five conspirators, I can not control
their opinion, seeing that I stand aloof from such affairs."
438 KOMOLA.
"Then yon desire tliat tliey should die? You desire tha;
the :i])]>(':il should be denied them V" said Itoniola, feeling
anew ix-pelled hy a \ indication which seemed to her to huve
the nature ol" a subterfuge.
*■• 1 have said that I do not desire their death."
"Then," said Komola, lier iiulignation rising again, "you
can be indifferent that Florentines should inflict death wliich
you do not desire, when you might have protested against it
— when you might liave helped to hinder it, by urging the
observance of a law which you held it good to get passed.
Father, you used not to stand aloof: you used not to shrink
from protesting. Do not say you can not protest where the
lives of men are concerned ; say, ratlier, you desire their death.
Say, rather, you hold it good for Florence that there shall bo
more blood and more hatred, ^^'ill the death of five 3Iedi-
ceans put an end to jiarties in Florence ? Will the death of
a noble old man like Bernard* del Nero save a city tiiat holds
such men as Dolfo Spini '?"
" My daughter, it is enougli. The cause of freedom, wliich
is the cause of God's kingdom upon earth, is often most in-
jured by the enemies who carry within them the power of
certain human virtues. The wickedest man is often not the
most insurmountal)le obstacle to the triumj)h of gof)d."
" Then why do you say again that you do not desire my
ut now he felt that it would be a Avelcome guaranty
of his security when he had learned that Bernardo del Xero's
head was off the shoulders. The new knowledge and new at-
titude towards him disclosed by Ilomola on the dd
have seen the last look of the man who alone in all the world
had shared her pitying love for her father. And still, in the
background of her thought, there was the possibility, striving
to be a hope, that some rescue might yet come, something
that would keep that scaffold unstained l)y blood.
For a long while there Avas constant movement, lights flick-
ering, heads swaying to and fro, confused voices within the
court, rushing waves of soinid through the entrance from witii-
out. It seemed to liomola as if she were in the- midst of a
Btorm or a troubled sea, caring nothing about the storm, but
only about holding out a signal till the eyes that looked for it
could seek it no more.
Suddenly there was stillness, and the very tapers seemed to
tremble into quiet. The executioner was ready on the scaffold,
and Hernar(h) del Nero was seen ascending it with a slow, firm
step. Komola made no visible movement, uttered not even a
suppressed sound: she stood more firmly, caring for his firm-
ness. She saw him pause, saw the white head kept erect,
while he said, in a voice distinctly audible,
"It is but a short space of life that my fellow-citizens have
taken from me."
EOMOLA. 44-5
She perceived that he was gazing slowly round him as he
fipoke. She felt that his eyes were resting on her, and that
she was stretching out her arms towards him. Then she saw
no more till — a long Avhile after as it seemed — a voice said,
" My daughter, all is peace now. I can conduct you to your
house."
She uncovered her head and saw her godfather's confessor
Btanding by her, in a room where there were other grave men
talking in subdued tones.
" I am ready," she said, starting up. " Let us lose no time."
She thought all clinging was at an end for her: all lier
strength now should be given to escape from a grasp under
which she shuddered.
CHAPTER LXI.
DRIFTING AWAY.
Ox the eighth day from that memorable night Romola was
standing on the brink of the Mediterranean, Avatching the gen-
tle summer pulse of the sea just above M'hat was then the lit-
tle fishing A'illage of ^'iareggio.
Again she had fled from Florence, and this time no arresting
voice had called her back. Again she Avore the gray religious
dress ; and this time in her heart-sickness, she did not care
that it Avas a disguise. A new rebellion had risen in her, a ,
new despair. Why should she care about Avearing one badge
more than another, or about being called by her OAvn name ? .
She despaired of finding any consistent duty belonging to that l-
name. What foi-ce Avas there to create for her that halloAved c,"
supreme motive Avhich men call duty, but Avhich can have no
inAvard constraining existence save through some form of be- , ,
lieving love ? The bonds of all strong affection Avere snaj^ped. ^ '
In her marriage, the highest bond of all, she'had ceased to see
the mystic union Avhich is its own guaranty of indissoluble-
ness, had ceased even to see the obligation of a A'oluntary
pledge : had she not proved that the things to Avhich she had
pledged herself wore impossible ? The impulse to set lierself
free had risen again Avith overmastering force ; yet the free-
dom could only be an exchange of calamity. There is no com-
pensation for the Avoman Avho feels that the chief relation of
her life has been no more than a mistake. She has lost her
crown. The deepest secret of human blessedness has half
whispered itself to her, and then forever passed her bj.
And noAV Romola's best support under that supreme woirw
446 ROMOLA.
an's sorrow had slipped away from licr. The vision of any
great purpose, any end of existence which could einiohle endur-
ance and exalt the common deeds of a dusty life wi;h divine
ardors, was utterly eclipsed for her now by the sense of a con.
fusion in human thiiiLrs which made all effort a mere dra^ijinf;
at tangled threads; all fellowship, either for resistance or ad-
vocacy, mere unfairness and exclusiveness. What, after all,
was the man who liad represented for her the liiLchest heroism*,
the heroism not of hard self-contained endurance, but of wil-
ling, self-offering love ? What was the cause he was strug-
gling for y Komola had lost her trust in Savonarola, liad lost
that fervor of admiration which had made her unmindful of
his aberrations, and attentive only to the grand curve of his
orbit. And now that her keen feeling for lier godfather liad
thrown her into antagonism with the Frate, she saw all the
repulsive anil inconsistent details in his teaching with a ]>ain-
ful lucidity which exaggerated their proportions. In the bit-
terness of her disappointment slic said that his striving after
the renovation of the Chui'ch and the world was a striving
after a mere name which told no more than the title of a book ;
a name that had come to mean practically the measures that
would strengtiien his own position in Florence ; nay, often (pies-
tionable deeds anil words, for the sake of saving his intiuence
from suffering by his own errors. And that i)olitical refoiiu
which had once made a new interest in her life seemed now
to reduce itself to narrow devices for the safety of Florence,
in contemptible contradiction with the alternating professions
of blind trust in the Divine care.
It was inevitable that she should judge the Frate unfairly
on a question of indiviecoming a demon-worship, in which the votary lets his son
jmd daughter pass through the fire with a readiness that hard-
ly looks like sacrifice ; tender fellow-feeling for the nearest
has its danger too, and is apt to be timid and skeptical to-
wards the larger aims without which life can not rise into
religion. In this way poor Komola was being blinded by her
tears.
No one wlio has ever known wliat it is thus to lose faith in
a fellow-man wliom lie has profoundly loved and reverenced,
ROMOLA. 447
will lightly say that the shock can leave the faith in the Invisi-
ble Goodness unshaken. With the sinking of high human
trust the dignity of life sinks too ; we cease to believe in our
own better self, since that also is part of the common nature
which is degraded in our thought ; and all the finer impulses
of the soul ara dulled. Romola felt even the springs of her
once active pity drying up, and leaving her to barren egoistic
complaining. Had not she had her sorrows too ? And few
nad cared for her, while she had cared for nianv. She had
done enough ; she had striven after the impossible, and was
weary of this stifling, crowded life. She longed for that re-
pose in mere sensation which she had sometimes dreamed of
in the sultry afternoons of her early girlhood, when she had
fancied herself floating naiad-like in the waters.
The clear wa\es seemed to invite her : she wished she could
lie down to sleep on them and pass from sleep into death.
But Romola could not directly seek death ; the fullness of
yoimg life in her forbade that. She could only wish that
death might come.
At the spot where she had paused there was a deep bend
in the shore, and a small boat with a sail was moored there.
In lier longing to glide over the Avaters that were getting
golden with the level sun-rays, she thought of a story which
had been one of the things she had loved to dwell on in Boc-
caccio, when her father fell asleep and she glided from her
stool to sit on the floor and read the Decamei'one. It was the
story of that fair Gostanza who in her love-lornness desired to
live no longer, but not having the courage to attack her young
life, had put herself into a boat and pushed off to sea ; then
lying down in the boat, had wrapped her mantle round her
Jiead, hoj^ing to be wrecked, so that her fear would be helpless
to flee from death. The memory had remained a mere thought
in Romola's mind, without budding into any distinct wisli ;
but now, as she paused again in her walking to and fro, she
saw gliding black against the red gold another boat with one
man in it, making towards the bend where the first and smaller
boat Avas moored. Walking on again, she at length saw the
man land, pull his boat ashore, and begin to unlade something
from it. He was perhaps the OA\mer of the smaller boat also ;
he would be going away soon, and her opportunity would be
gone with him — her opportunity of buying the smaller boat.
Slie had not yet admitted to herself that she meant to use it,
but she felt a sixdden eagerness to secure the possibility of
usincf it, which disclosed the half-unconscious ixrowth of a
thought into a desire.
'' Is that little boat yours also ?" she said to the fisherman,
448 ROMOLA.
who had lof)kc(l up, a little startled by the tall gray figure,
aud IkuI iii.ulu ;i revercuce to this holy iSister wandering thus
mysteriously in the evening solitude.
It icas his boat; an old one, hardly sea-worthy, yet worth
repairing to any man who woulil buy it. ]}y the blessing of
San Antonio, v hose chaj)el was in the village yonder, his fish-
ing had prospered, and he had now a better boat, which had
once been (iianni's who died. But he had not yet sold the
old one. Komola asked him how much it was worth, and
then, while he was busy, thrust the price into a little satchel
lying on the ground and containing the remnant of his din-
ner. After that, she watched him furling Ids sail, and asked
him how he sliuuld set it if he w anted to go out to sea, and
then, pacing up and down again, waited to see him depart.
The imagination of herself gliding away in that boat on
the darkening waters was growing more and more into a
longing, as the thought of a cool brook in sultriness becomes
a painful thirst. To be freed from the burden of choice when
all motive was bruised, to commit herself, skeping, to destiny
which would either bring death or else new necessities that
might rouse a new life in her ! it was a thought that beck-
oned her the more because the soft evening air made her long
to rest in the stili solitude, instead of going back to the noise
and heat of t!:e village.
At last the slow fisherman had gathered up all his mov-
ables and was walking away. Soon the gold Avas shrinking
and getting duskier in sea and sky, and there was no living
thing in sight, no sound but the lulluig monotony of the lap-
ping waves. In this sea there was no tide tliat would helj) to
carry her away if she waited for its ebl»; but Komola thought
the breeze from the land was rising a little. She got into the
boat, unfurled the sail, and fastened it as she had learned in
that first l)rief lesson. She saw that it caught the light breeze,
and this was all she cared for. Then she loosed the boat from
its moorings, and tried to urge it with an oar, till she was far
out from the land, till the sea was. dark even to the west, and
the stars were disclosing themselves like a ])alpitating life
over till' wide heavens. Resting at last, she threw back her
cowl, and taking off the kerchief underneath, which confined
her hair, she doubled them V)oth under her head for a ]»illow
on one of the boat's ribs. The fair head was still very young
and could bear a hard jiillow.
And so she lay, with the soft night air breathing on her
while she gliilecl on the watei's and watched the deepening
(piiet of tlu' sky. She was alone now : she had freed herself
from all claims, she had freed herself even from that burden
450 ROMOLA.
of olioice •Nvliifh presses svitli lieavier and heavier weiglit when
claims liave loosetl their gliding liold.
Had she found any thing like the dream of her girlhood?
Ko. ^Memories liung upon lier like the weiglit of broken
wings that could never be lifted — memories of human sym-
pathy which even in its pains leaves a thirst that the Grea*
^Iothc^ has no milk to still. Romola felt orphaned in those
wide spaces of sea and sky. She read no message of love for
her in that far-off symbolic writing of the heavens, and with
a great sob she wished that she might be gliding into death.
She drew the cowl over her liead again and covered her
face, choosing darkness rather than the liglit of the stars,
which seemed to her like the hard light of eyes that looked
at her without seeing her. Presently she felt that she was in
the grave, but not resting there : slie was touching the hands
of tile beloved dead beside her, and trying to wake them.
CHAPTER LXII.
THE BENEDICTION.
About ten o'clock on the morning of the twenty-seventh
of February the currents of passengers along the Florentine
streets set decidedly towards San Marco. It was the last
morning of the Carnival, and every one knew there was a
second Bonfire of Vanities being prepared in front of the Old
Palace ; but at this hour it was evident that the centre of
popular interest lay elsewhere.
The Piazza di San Marci* was filled by a multitude who
showed no other movement than that which proceeded from
the pressure of new-comers trying to force their way forward
from all the openings ; but the front ranks were alreaily close-
serried, and resisted the pressure. Those ranks were ranged
around a semicircular barrier in front of the church, and with-
in this barrier were already assemljling the Dominican Breth-
i;cn of San .Marco.
But the temporary wooden pulpit erected over the church
door was still empty. It was ]iresently to be entered by the
man whom the Pojie's coniTuand had banished from the pulpit
of the Dnomo, whom the other ecclesiastics of Florence had
been forbidden to consort with, whom the citizens had been
forbidden to heat on ])ain of excommunication. This ni.an
had saiil, "A wickeil, unbelieving Poj)e, who has gained the
pontifical chair by bribery, is not Christ's Vicar. His curses
are broken swords : he grasps a hiit without a blade. Hia
ROilOLA. 45]
commands are contrary to the Christian life: it is lawful to
disobey them — nay, it is ?iot lawful to obey them.'''' And
the peojjie still flocked to hear him as he preached in his own
church of San Marco, though the Pope was hanging terrible
threats over Florence if it did not renounce the pestilential
schismatic and send him to Rome to be "converted" — still,
as on this very morning, accepted the communion from his ex-
communicated hands. For how if this Frate had really more
command over the Divine lightnings than that official success-
or of Saint Peter ? It was a momentous question, which for
the mass of citizens could never be decided by the Frate's ul-
timate test, namely, what was and what was not accordant
with the highest spiritual law. No : in such a case as this, if
God had chosen the Frate as his prophet to rebuke ihe High
Priest who carried the mystic raiment unworthily, he Avould
attest his choice by some unmistakable sign. As long as the
belief in the Prophet carried no threat of outward calamity,
but rather the confident hope of exceptional safety, no sign
was needed : liis preaching was a music to which the peoj^le felt
themselves marching along the way they wished to go ; but
now that belief meant an immediate blow to their commerce,
the shaking of their position among the Italian States, and an
interdict on their city, there inevitably came the question,
" What miracle showest thou ?" Slowly at first, then faster
and faster, that fatal demand had been swelling in Savonarola's
ear, provoking a response, outwardly in the declaration that at
the fitting time the miracle Avould come ; inwardly in the faith
— not unwavering, for what faith is so ? — that if the need for
miracle became ui-gent, the work he had before him was too
great for the Divine power to leave it halting. His faith
wavered, but not his speech : it is the lot of every man who
has to speak for the satisfaction of the crowd, that he must oft-
en speak in virtue of yesterday's faith, hoping it will come
back to-morrow.
It was in preparation for a scene -which was really a response
to the popular impatience for some supernatural guaranty of
ihe Prophet's mission that the wooden pulpit had been
erected above the church door. But while the ordinary Frati
in black mantles were entering and arranging themselves the
faces of the multitude were not yet eagerly dii-ected towards
the pulpit : it was felt that Savonarola would not appear just
yet, and there was some interest in singling out the various
monks, some of them belonging to high Florentine families,
many of them having fathers, brothers, or cousins among the
artisans and shop-keepers who made the majority of the crowd.
It was not till the tale of monks w^as complete not till the>
#52 nOMOLX
had fluttered ihcir books and liad bec;un to chant, that people
said to I'.'U'li other, " Fra (rirohimo must be eoniiiii; now."
That exi)ectatioii, rather tliaii any sj)ell from the aeeustoined
wail of psahnody, was what made silence and expectation seem
to spread like a palinLj solemn liiiht over the multitude of up-
turned faces, all now directed towards the emj)ly ])ulpit.
The next instant the pulj)it was no lon!j:;er empty. A figure
covered from head to foot in black cowl and mantle liad en-
tered it and was kneeling with bent head and with face turned
away. It seemed a weary time to the eager peoi)le while the
black figure knelt and the monks chanted. But the stillness
was not broken, for the Frate's audiences witli Heaven were
yet charged with electric awe for that mixed multitude, so
that those whu had alreadv the will to stone him felt their arms
unnerved.
At last there was a viljration among tlie multitude, each
seeming to give his neighbor a momentary aspen-like touch, as
when men who have been watching for something in the lieavens
,5ee the expected presence silently disclosing itself. TheFrate
liad ri.sen, turned towards the j^eople, and ])arfly pushed back
his cowl. T\\^. monotonous wail of psalmody had ceased, and
to those who stood near the pulpit it was as if the sounds
which liad just been filling tlieir ears liad suddenly merged
tiiemselves in the force of Savonarola's flashing glance, as he
looked round him in the silence. Then he stretched out liis
hands, which, in their ex(|uisite delicacy, seemed transfigured
from an animal organ for grasping into vehicles of sensibility
too acute to need any gross contact: hands that came like an
appealing speech from tliat part of his soul which was masked
by his strong passionate face, written on now with deeper
lines about the mouth and brow than are made by forty-four
years of ordinary life.
At the first stretching out of the hands some of the crowd
in the front ranks h II on their knees, anut when the Frato had disappeared, and the sunlight
seemed no longer to have any thing speciid in its illumination,
but was spreading itself impartially over all things elean and
unelean, there began, along with the general movement of the
crowd, a eonfusion of voices in which certain strong discords
and varying scales of laughter made it evident that, in the
j)revious silence and universal kneeling, hostility ami scorn
had only submitted unwillingly to a momentary spell.
" It seems to me the |)laudits are giving way to criticism,"
said Tito, who had been watching the scene attentively from
an upper loggia in one of the houses opposite the church.
"Nevertheless it was a striking moment, eh, ?»Iesser Pietro?
Fra Girolamo is a man to make oneimderstand that there was
a time when the monk's frock was a symbol of power over
men's minds rather than over the keys of women's cupboards."
" Assuredly," said Pietro Ceiinini. " And unlil I have seen
proof that Fra Girolanio has much less faith in God's juregnant errand to San Marco. For some
reason he did not choose to take the direct road, which was
but a slightly bent line from the Old Palace; he chose rath-
er to make a circuit 1)V the Piazza di Santa Croce, where the
people would be pouring out of the church after the early
sermon.
It was in tlie grand church of Santa Croce t])at the daily
Lenten sermon liald
already, he sees no reason why he should walk through the
fire to come out in just the same condition. lie leaves such
odds and ends of work to Fra Domenico."
"Then I say he flinches like a coward," said Goro, in a
wheezy treble. " Suft'ocation ! that was -what he did at the
Carnival. lie had us all in the Piazza to see the liglitning
strike him, and nothing came of it."
" Stop that bleating," said a tall shoemaker, who had step-
^;)etl in to hear part of the sermon, with bunches of slip))ers
hanging over his shoulders. " It seems to me, friend, that
you are about as -wise as a calf with water on its brain. The
Frate will flinch from nothing: he'll sav nothing beforehand,
perhaps, but when the moment comes he'll Avalk through the
• Tlic old Diarists throw in tlicir fonsonants with a scniimlons rearard
rfttlu-r to iinaiitity than position, wcl! tyiiified by the liuynolo Bi uyhitUo
C^gnnol'j Gibncliu) of Boccuccio's Feroudo.
EOMOLA. 457
fi>\3 without asking any gray-frock to keep him company.
But I would give a shoe-string to know what this Latin all
is."
" There's so much of it," said the shop-keeper, " else I'm
pretty good at guessing. Is there no scholar to be seen?"
he added with a slight expression of disgust.
There Avas a general turning of heads, which caused the
talkers to descry Tito approaching in their rear.
" Here is one," said the young sculptor, smiling and rais-
ing his cap.
"It is the secretary of the Ten : he is going to the convent,
doubtless ; make way for him," said the shop keeper, also
doffing, though that mark of respect was rarely shown by
Florentines except to the highest officials. The exceptional
reverence was really exacted by the splendor and grace of
Tito's api^earance, which made his black mantle, with its gold
fibula, look like a regal robe, and his ordinary black velvet
cap like an entirely exceptional head-dress. The hardening
of his cheeks and mouth, which was the chief change in his
face since he came to Florence, seemed to a superficial glance
only to give his beauty a more masculine character. He
raised his own cap immediately and said.
" Thanks, my friend, I merely wished, as you did, to see
what is at the foot of this placard — ah, it is as I expected. I
had been informed that the Government permits any one who
will to subscribe his name as a candidate to enter the fire — ■
which is an act of liberality worthy of the magnificent Sig-
noria — reserving of coui'sc the right to make a selection.
And doubtless many believers will be eager to subscribe
their names. For what is it to enter the fire to one whose
faith is firm ? A man is afraid of the fire because he believes
it Avillburn him ; but if he believes the contrary ?" — here Tito
lifted his shoulders and made an oratorical pause — " for which
reason I have never been one to disbelieve the Frate, when
he has said that he would enter the fire to prove his doctrine.
For in his place, if you believed the fire would not burn you,
which of you, my friends, would not enter it as readily as
you would walk along the dry bed of the Mugnone ?"
As Tito looked round him during this appeal there was a
change in some of his audience very much like the change in
an eager dog when he is invited to smell something pungent.
Since the question of burning was becoming practical, it was
not every one who would rashly commit himself to any gen
eral view of the relation between faith and fire. The scene
might have been too much for a gravity less under command
»iiaa Tito's.
20
458 Ko.\ror,A.
"Thou, Mi'ssor Segrofario," saitl the yoiui<^ sculptor, "i4
Beenis to iiu' Fra FraiK'csco is the greater liero, Ibr he oirers
to enter the tire lor the truth, though he is sure the tire will
burn liini."
" I do not deny it," said Tito, Lhindly. " I5ut if it turns
out that Fra Francesco is mistaken, he will have been burned
for the wrong side, and the Church lias never reckoned such
as martyrs. We must suspend our judgment until the trial
has really taken jjlace."
"It is true,Messcr Segretario^" said tlie sliop-keeper, with
subdued impatience. " l)Ul will you favor us by interpreting
tlie Latin V"
" Assuredly," said Tito. " It docs but express the conclu-
Bions or doctrines Avhich the Frate specially teadies, and
whicli tlie trial by lire is to jirove true or false. They are
doubtless familiar to you. First, that Florence — "
"Let lis have the Latin bit by bit, and then tell us Avhat it
moans," saiil the shoemaker, who had been a frequent hearer
of F'ra Girolaino.
" Willingly," said Tito, smiling. " You will then judge if
I give you tlie right meaning."
" Yes, yes ; that's fair," said Goro,
" Ei'deda Del indiget renovatione, that is, the Church of
God needs ])urifying or regenerating."
"It is true," said several voices at once.
"That means, the priests ought to lead better lives ; there,
needs no miracle to prove that. That's what the Frate has
always been saying," said the shoemaker.
'■'■yiiir/fllahUar'' Tito went on. " That is, it will be scourged.
Menovuhitur : it M'ill bo purified. I'lormtia (ji/oqt(c jxi^'it Jfa-
gelki reiiovahitur it pros-jHrahitur: Florence also, after the
scourging, shall be purified and shall prosper."
"That means, we are to get Fisa again," said the shop-
keeper.
" And get the wool from Fngland as we used to do, I
should hope," said an elderly man, in an old-fashioned berret-
ta, who had been silent till now. "There's been scourgiug
enough Avith the sinking of the trade."
At this nunnent, a tall ])i'rsonage, surmounted by a red
feather, issued from the door of the convent, and exchanged
an inditterent glance with Tito; who, tossing his becehetto
carelessly over his left shoulder, turned to his reading again,
Avhile theby-standi'rs, with moi-e timidity thaTi respect, shrank
to make a passage for ^lesser Dolfo Sjiini.
"//jA'cA /<.s' convcHenfttr ad Christum,''' Tito Aveiif on. " Tl'Ut
iSj the infidi'ls shall be converted to Christ."
komoLjV 459
" Those are the Turks and the Moors. Well, Tve nothing
to say against that," said the shop-keeper, dispassionately.
" Hmc aiitem omnia erunt temporibus nostris — and all these
things shall happen in our times."
""Why, Avhat use would they be else ?" said Goro.
'■'■ Excommimicatio miper lata contra Beverendum Patrem
nostrum Fratrem Hkromjmum nulla est — the excommunica-
tion lately pronounced against our reverend father, Fra Giro-
lamo, is null. Kon observantes cam non peccant — those who
disregard it are not committing a sin."
" I shall know better what to say to that when we have
had the Trial by Fire," said the shop-keeper.
" Which doubtless will clear up every thing," said Tito.
" that is all the Latin — all the conclusions that are to be
proved true or false by the trial. The rest you can perceive
is simply a proclamation of the Signoria in good Tuscan, call-
ing on such as are eager to walk through the fire to came to
the Palazzo and subscribe their names. Can I serve you fur-
ther? If not— "
Tito as he turned away, raised his cap and bent slightly,
with so easy an air that the movement seemed a natural
prompting of deference.
He quickened his pace as he left the Piazza, and after two
or three turnings he paused in a quiet street before a door at
which he gave a light and peculiar knock. It was opened by
a young woman, whom he chucked under the chin as he ask-
ed her if the Padrone was within, and he then passed, without
further ceremony, through another door which stood ajar on
his right hand. It admitted him into a handsome but untidy
room, Avhere Dolfo Spini sat playing with a fine stag-hound,
which alternately snuffed at a basket of pups and licked his
hands with that afiectionate disregard of her master's morals
which in the fifteenth century was felt to be one of the most
agreeable attributes of her sex. He just looked up as Tito
entered, but continued his play, simply from that disposition
to persistence in some irrelevant action, by which slow-witted
sensual people seem to be continually counteractmg their
own purposes. Tito was patient.
" X handsome bracca that," he said, quietly, standing with
nis thumbs in his belt. Presently he added, in that cool liq-
uid tone which seemed mild, but compelled attention, " When
you have finished such caresses as can not possibly be deferred,
my Dolfo, we will talk of business, if you please. My time,
which I could wish to be eternity at yoiir service, i? not en-
tirely my own this morning."
" Down, Mischief, down !" said Spini, with sudden rough
4G0 KOMOLA.
ness. " IM.alofliction !" lie added, still niorc grufll y, pushing
the dot; aside; then starting from his seat, he stood close to
Tito, and i)ut a hand on his shoulder as he spoke.
"I liojie your sharp -wits see all the ins and outs of this
business, niv tine neert)niancer, lor it seems to me no clearer
than the bottom of a sack."
" What is your ditticulty, my eavaliere ?"
"These accursed Frati Minoii at Santa Croce. They arc
drawing back now. Fra Francesco liiinself seems afraid of
sticking to his challenge ; talks of the Prophet being likely to
use ma-nc to tret ui) a false miracle — thinks he might be drag-
ged into the lire and buiiied, and the Prophet might come out
whole by magic, and the Church be none the better. And
then, after all our talking, there's not so much as a blessed lay
brother who will oiler himself to pair with that ])ious sheep
Fra Domenico.'''
"It is the peculiar stu])idity of the tonsured skull that ])ro-
vents them fi-om seeing of how little consequence it is wheth-
er they are burned or not," said Tito. " Have you sworn
well to them that they shall be in no danger of entering the
fire ?"
" No," said Spini, looking jMiz/led ; " because one of them
Avill be obliged to go in with Fra Domenico, Avho thinks it a
thousand years till the fogots are ready."
" Not at all. Fra Domenico himself is not likely to go in.
I have told you before, my Dolfo, only your ])Owerrul mind is
not to be impressed without more repetition than suftices for
the vulgar — I have told you that now you have got the Sig-
noria to take uj) this afiair and ])revent it from being hushed
up by Fia (iiiolanid, nothing is necessary but that on agiven
day the fuel should be prepared in the Piazza, and the people
got together with the exix'ctation of seeing something ])rodig-
io\is. ll'aller tliat, the J*ro]>liet (piits tlu' l*ia//.a without any
ap])eaiance of a miracle on his side, he is r\iin( d \\ iili the peo-
ple : they will be ready to ])i'lt him out of the city, the Sign-
oria will iind it easy to banish him from the; territory, and his
Holiness may do as he likes with him. Thereforc,my Alcibia-
cles, swear to the Franciscans that their gray frocks shall iiot
come ^\■itlIin singeing distance of (he fire."
Spini iiibbed the back ofhis head with one hand, and ta]>-
ped his sword against his leg with the other, to stimulate his
power of seeing these intangible combinations.
" Tbit," hi' said presently, looking up again, " unless we fall
on him in the Pia/za, when the ]>eo])le are in a rage, and make
;iii (lid otliim and his lies then and there, Yalori and the Sal-
via! i ami the Ail)i/./.i will take np arms and raise a tight fo*
ROMOLA, 461
him. I know that was talked of when there was the hubbuh
on Ascension Sunday. And the people may turn round again :
there may be a story raised of the French khig coming again,
or some other cursed chance in the hypocrite's favor. The
city will never be safe till he's out of it."
"He will be out of it before long, without your giving
yourself any further trouble than this little comedy of the
Trial by Fire. The wine and the sun will make vinegar with'
ont any shouting to help them, as your Florentine sages would
say. You will have the satisfaction of delivering your city
from an incubus by an able stratagem instead of risking
blunders with sword-thrusts."
" But suppose he did get magic and the devil to help him,
and walk through the lire after all ?" said Spini, Avith a grim-
ace intended to hide a certain shyness in trenching on this
speculative ground. " How do you know there's nothing in
those things^? Plenty of scholars believe in them, and this
Frate is bad enough for any thing."
" Oh, of course" there are such things," said Tito, with a
shrug; "but I have particular reasons for knowing that the
Frate is not on such terms with the devil as can give him
any confidence in this affair. The only magic he relies on is.
his own ability."
" Ability !"" said Spini. " Do you call it ability to be set-
ting Florence at loggerheads with the Pope and all the pow-
ers of Italy — all to keep beckonhig at the French king who
never comes ? You may call hun able, but I call him a hyp-
ocrite, who wants to be master of every body, and get him-
self made Po^^e."
" You judge with your usual penetration, my captain, but
our opinions do not clash. The Frate, wanting to be master,
and to carry out his projects against the Pope, requires the
lever of a foreign power, and requires Florence as a fulcrum.
I used to think him a narrow-minded bigot, but now I think
him a shrewd ambitious man who knoAvs Avhat he is aiming
at, and directs his aim as skillfully as you direct a ball Avhen
you are playing at magUoP
" Yes, yes," said Spini, cordially, " I can aim a ball."
" It is true," said Tito, Avith bland gravity ; " and I should
not have troubled you Avith my trivial remark on the Frate's
ability, but that you may see how this will heighten thecred-
it of your success against him at Rome and at Milan, which
is sure to serve you in good stead Avhen the city comes to
change its policy."
" Well, thou art a good little demon, and shalt have good
pay," said Spini, patronizingly; Avhereupon he thought it
462 KOMOIJV.
only natural tli.it the useful Greek adventurer should smile
\villi Ljiat.tiraliuu as he r^aid —
" Of course, any advantage to me depends entirely on
your — "
'• We shall have our su))per at my palace to-night," inter-
rupted Spini, Avith a signiticant nod and an att'ectjonate pat
on Tito's shoulder, " and I shall expound the new scheme to
•hem all."
" Pardon, my magnificent patron," said Tito ; " the scheme
has been the same from the first — it has never varied except
in your memory. Are you sure you have fast hold of it
now V"
Spini rehearsed.
" One thing more," ho ^aid, as Tito was hastening away.
"There is that sliar]i-nosed notary, Ser Cecoiie ; he has lieen
handy of latt-. 'IVil nu', you who can see a man wink when
you'i'c behind him, do you think 1 may go on making use of
him ?"
Tito dared not say " no." He knew his companion too
well to trust him with advice when all Sjnni's vanity and self-
interest were not engaged in concealinir the adviser.
, " Doubtless," he answered, promptly. " I have nothing
to say against Cecoiie."
That suggestion of the notary's intimate access to Spini
causcfl Tito a passing twinge, interrupting his amused satis-
faction in the success Avith Avhich he made a tool of the man
who fancied himself a patron. For lie had been rather afraid
of Ser Cecone. Tito's nature made him peculiarly alive to
circumstances that might bo turned to his disadvantage ; his
.memory was much haunti-d by such iH)ssibilitics, stiniulating
him to contrivances by which he might Avard them oft'. AikI
it Avas not likely that he should forget that October morning
more than a year ago, Avhen Komola had a]i))eare(l suddenly
before him at the door of Nello's shop, atul had compelled
him to declare his certainty that Fra (Tirolamo Avasnot going
outside the gates. The fact that Scr Ceccone had been a wit-
ness of that scene, together with Tito's perception that lor
some reason or other lie Avas an object of dislike to the nota-
ry, h.ud received a new imjiortance from the recent turn of
events. For after having been implicated in the Medicean
plots, and found it a
:nediate difficulties was being lost in the glow of that
vision, wlien the knocking at the door announced the expect-
ed visit.
Savonarola drew ^n his mantle before he left his cell, aa
was hi.'- .'-ustoni wlien he received visitors ; and Avith that im-
mediate response to any appeal from without Avhich belongs
to a power-loving nature accustomed to make its power felt
by speech, he met Tito with a glance as self-possessed and
strong as if he had risen from resolution instead of conflict.
Tito did not kneel, but simply made a greeting of pro-
found deference, which Savonarola received quietly without
any sacerdotal words, and then desiring him to be seated, said
at once,
" Your business is something of Aveight, my son, that could
not be conA'eyed through others ?''
" Assuredly, father, else I should not have presumed to ask
it. I will not trespass on your time by any proem. I gath-
ered from a remark of Messer Domenico Mazzinghi that you
miglit be glad to make use of the next special courier Avho is
sent to France Avitli dispatches from the Ten. I must entreat
you to pardon me if I have been too officious ; but inasmuch
as Messer Domenico is at this moment away at his A'illa, I
Avished to apprise you that a courier carrying important let-
ters is about to dejiart for Lyons at daybreak to-morroAv."
The muscles of Era Girolamo's face were eminently under
command, as mvist be the case Avith all men Avhose personali-
ty is poAverful, and in deliberate speech he Avas habitually
cautious, confiding his intentions to none AA-ithout necessity.
But under any strong mental stimulus his eyes Avere liable
:o a dilation and added brilliancy that no strength of Avill
30uld control. He looked steadily at Tito, and did not an-
swer immediately, as if he had to consider whether the infor
mation he had just heard met any ])urpose of his.
Tito, Avhose glance never seemed observant, but rarely let
any thing escape it, had expected precisely that dilation and
flash of SaA'cnarola's eyes Avliicli he had noted on other occa-
sions, lie saAV it, and then immediately busied himself \d ad-
4Vf^ ROMOi.A.
Justin;]^ Ills i^old fihiiln, wliicli IkkI j^ot wronoj; soemiiiij to im
j»ly tlial lie :i\v:iitc' of liis, w honi he liad already eni])loyed to write
a private letter to the Florentine ambassador in France, to
prepare the way for a letter to the French kinii: himself in
Stivonarola's handwritinir, which now lay ready in the desk
at his side. It was a letter callin-^ on the king to assist in
summoning a General Council, that might reform the abuses
of the Chuicli, and. begin bv deposing Po])e Alexander, who
was not light fully I'ope, being a vicious unbeliever, elected
by corruption, and governing by simonv.
'l'I)is fact was not what Tito knew, but M'hat liis liypotliet-
ic talent, constructing from subtle indications, had led him to
guess and hope.
" It is true, my son," said Savonarola, quietly. "It is true
I have letters which T would gladly send liy safe conveyance
undercover to our ambassador. Our conununity of San Mar-
co, as you know, has affairs in France, being, among other
things responsible for a debt to that singularly wise and expe-
rienced Frenchman, Signor Phili])pe de Coniines, on the libra-
ry of the ]\Iedici, which we jnii-cliased ; but I apprehend that
Domenico Mazzinghi liimself may return to the city before
evening, aiul I should gain nu)re tinu' for ))re])aration of the
letters if I waited to :le])osit them in his hands."
"Assuredly, reverend fatlu'r, that might be better on all
grounds exccjit one, namely, that if any thing occurix'd to hin-
der ]Messer Domenico's I'eturn, the dispatch of the letters
would ri'(|uire either that I should coini' to San ]M;irco again
at a late hour, or that you should send them to nie by your
secretary ; ami 1 am aware that you wish to guartl against the
false iiderences which might be drawn from a too frequent
communication between yourself and any officer of tin; Gov-
ernment." In throwing out this difficulty Tito felt that the
more unwillingiu'ss the Frate showed to trust him, the nu)re
certain he wnuhl be of his conjecture.
Savonarola was silent ; but while he ke]it his mouth firm
a slight glow rose in his face with the sup])ressed excitenu'ut
that was growing within him. It would be a critical monu'nt
— that in which he delivered the letter out of his own hands.
" It is most probable that ^lesser Douu'iiico will return in
time," said Tito, affecting to considei- the Frate's determina-
tion set tied, and rising from his chair as he sjioke. '" \\ ith
your permission I will take my leave, father, not to trespass
on your time when my errand is done; but as I may not b«
ROM OLA. 471
fjivored Avitli another interview, I venture to confide to you
what is not yet known to others except to the magnificent
Ten, that I contemplate resigning my secretaryship, and leav
ing Florence shortly. Am I presuming too much on yourin>
terest in stating what relates chielly to myself?"
"Speak on, ray son," said the Frate, ''I desire to know
your prospects."
" I find, then, that I have mistaken my real vocation in
forsaking the career of pure letters, for Avhich I was brought
uj). The politics of Florence, father, are Avorthy to occupy
the greatest mind — to occupy yours — when a man is in a
position to execute his own ideas ; but when, like me, he can
only hope to be the mere instrument of changing schemes,
he requires to be animated by the minor attachments of a
born Florentine : also my wife's unhappy alienation from a
Florentine residence since the painful events of August nat-
urally influences me. I wish to join her."
Savonarola inclined his head approvingly.
" I intend, then, soon to leave Florence, to visit the chief
cou7-ts of Europe, and to widen my acquaintance with the
men of letters in the various universities. 1 shall go first to
the court of Hungary, where scholars are eminently welcome;
and I shall probably start in a week or ten days. I have not
concealed from you, father, that I am no religious enthusiast ;
I have not my wife's ardor; but religious enthusiasm, as I
conceive, is not necessary in order to appreciate the grandeur
and justice of your views concerning the government of na-
tions and the Church. And if you condescend to intrust
me with any commission that will further the relations you
wish to establish I shall feel honored. May I now' take my
leave?"
" Stay, my son. When you depart from Florence I will
send a letter to your wife, of whose spiritual welfare I Avould
fain be assured, for she left me in anger. As for the letters
to France, such as I have ready — "
Savonarola rose and turned to his desk as he spoke. He
took from it a letter on which Tito could see, but not read,
an address in the Frate's own minute and exquisite hand-
writing, still to be seen covering the margins of his Bibles.
He took a large sheet of paper, inclosed the letter, and seal-
ed it.
"Pardon me, father," said Tito, before Savonarola had time
to speak, " unless it were your decided wish, I wovdd rather
not incur the responsibility of carrying away the letter. Mes-
ser Domenico Mazzinfrhi will doubtless reti;rn,or, if not, Fra
Niccolo can convey it to me at the second hour of the even'
472 ROMOLA.
in<;, wlion I sliall place the other dispatches in the coiirier'a
Laruls.''
"At present, my son," said tlie Fratc, Avaiving that point,
"I wish yon to acMivss this packet to our ambassador in
your t)\vn liaudwriting, -wiiicli is preferable to my secre-
tary's."
Tito sat down to write tlie address Avliile the Frate stood
by liim with lokled arms, tlie glow mounting in his cheek, and
his lip at last quivering. Tito rose and was about to move
away, when Savonarola said, abruptly,
"Take it, my son. There is no use in waiting. It does
not please me that Fra Xiccolo should have needless errands
to the Palazzo."
As Tito took the letter Savonarola stood in suppressed ex-
citement that forbade furtlier s]»eech. There seems to be a
subtle emanation Irom passionate natures like his, making
their mental states tell immediately on others; when they
are absent-minded and inwardly excited there is silence in
the air.
Tito made a deep reverence, and went out with the letter
under his niantle.
The letter was duly delivered to the courier and carried
out of Florence. But before that happened another messen-
ger, privately employed by Tito, liad conveyed information in
cipher, which was carried by a series of relays to ai'med
agents of Ludovico Sfoi-za, Duke of Milan, on the watch for
the very purpose of intercepting dispatches on thebordtu-s of
the Milanese territory.
CHAPTER LXV.
T IT 1^ T n I A L n V F I n E .
LiTTLK more than a week after, on the seventh of A])rJ\ tho
great Piazza della Signoria |)resenTed a stranger spectacle even
tlian the famous IJonlire of Vanities. .And a greater nniiti-
tude had assembled to see it than had ever before tried to find
})lace for themselves in the wide Piazza, even on the tbiy of
iSan Giovanni.
It was near mid-day, and since the early morning there had
been a gradual swarining of the jieoj/le at every coign of van-
tage or disadvantage offered by the faeades and roofs of the
houses, and such sj)aces of the pavement as were free to the
public. Men Avere seatecl on iron rods that made a sharp angle
with the rising wall, were chitching slim pillars with arms and
EOMOLA. 473
legs, were astride on the necks of the rough statuary that hero
and there surmounted the entrances of the grander houses,
were finding a pahn's-breadth of seat on a bit of architrave,
and a footing on the rough projections of the rustic stone-
work, while Uiey clutched the strong iron rings or staples
driven into the walls beside them.
For they were come to see a Miracle : cramped limbs and
abraded flesh seemed slight inconveniences witli that prospect
dose at hand. It is the ordinary lot of mankind to hear of
miracles, and more or less believe in them ; but now the Flor-
entines were going to see one. At the very least they would
see half a miracle ; for if the monk did not come whole out of
the fire, they would see him enter it, and infer that he was
burned in the middle.
There could be no reasonable doubt, it seemed, that the fire
would be kindled, and that the monks would enter it. For
there, before their eyes, was the long platform, eight feet broad
and twenty yards long, with a grove of fuel heai)ed up terri-
bly, great branches of dry oak as a foundation, crackling thorns
above, and well-anointed tow and rags, known to make fine
flames in Florentine illuminations. The platform began at
the corner of the marble terrace in front of the old palace,
close to Marzocco, the stone lion, whose aged visage looked
frowningly along the grove of fuel that stretched obliquely
across the Piazza.
Besides that there were three large bodies of armed men :
five hundred hired soldiers of the Signoria stationed before
the palace, five hundred Compagnacci, under Dolfo Spini, far
off on the opposite side of the Piazza, and three hundred arm-
ed citizens of another sort, under Marco Salviati, Savonarola's
friend, in front of Orcagna's Loggia, where the Franciscans
and Dominicans were to be placed with their champions.
Here had been much expense of money and labor, and high
dignities were concerned. There could be no reasonable doubt
that something great was about to happen ; and it would cer-
tainly be a great thing if the two monks were simply burned,
for in that case too God would have spoken, and said very
plainly that Fra Girolamo was not his prophet.
And there was not much longer to wait, for it was now
aear mid-day. Half the monks Avere already at their post,
and that half of the Loggia that lies towards the Palace Avas
already filled with gray mantles; but the other half, divided
off by boards, was still empty of every thing except a small
altar. The Franciscans had entered and taken their places in
;:ilence. But now, at the other side of the Piazza, was heard
loud chanting from two hundred voices, and there was general
4Vf llOMOLA.
satisfaction, if not in (lie c'tiantint;, at Icar-t in tlie evidence that
die Dominicans were come. That loud eliantiiiij: re|tetition
of the prayer, " Let God arise, and let his enemies be scatter-
ed," was unpleasantly sun;gestive to some inijiartial ears of a
desire to vaunt confidence and excite dismay ; and so was the
llame-colored \elvetc(»i>e in which Fra Domenico was anayed
as he headed the j)rocession, cross in hand, his simple mind
really exalted with faith, and with the genuine intention to en-
ter the tlatnes for the glory of God and Fra Girolatuo. Be-
hind him came Savonarola in the white vestments of a priest,
carrying in his hands a vessel containing the consecrated
Host. lie too was chanting loudly, he too looked firm and
confident; and as all eyes were turned eagerly on him,c-ither
in anxiety, curiosity, or malignity, from the moment when he
enterefl the Piazza till he mounted the stejis of the Loggia, and
deposited tlie Sacrament on the altar, there was an intensifying
Hash and energy in his countenance responding to that scru-
tiny.
We are so made, almost all of ns, that the false scemi.ig
which we have thought of with painful shrinking a hen befotC-
hand in our solitude it lias urged itself on us as a noccssi».y,
will possess our muscles and move our lips as if nothing bat
that were easy when once we have come under the stinnilus
of expectant eyes and ears. And the strength of that stimu-
lus to Savonarola can hardly be measured by the experience
of ordinary lives. l*erhaps no man has ever liad a mighty in-
fluence over his fellows without having the innate need to
dominate, and this need usually becomes the more imperious
in proportion as the complications of life make self insepara-
ble from a purpose which is not selfish. In this -way it came
to i)ass that on the day of the Trial by Fire the doublenesa
which is the pressing temptation in every public career, wheth-
er of priest, orator, or statesman, was more strongly defined
in Savonarola's consciousness as the acting of a part, than at
any other j)eriod in his life. He was struggling not against
imjtending martrydom, but against impending ruin.
Therefore lu' lookeil and acted as if he were thoroughly
confident, when all the while foreboding was ])ressing with
leaden weight on his heart, not only because of the probable
issues of tins trial, but because of another event already i)a/^s-
ed — an eveJit which Avas spreadincr a sunny satisfaction through
the minut speech is the most irritating kind of argument
for those who are out of hearing, cramped in the limbs, and
empty in the stomach. And AvJiat need was tliere fur sjieec/i ?
If the miracle did not begin, it could be no one's f;iult but Fra
Girolamo's, Avho might put an end to all difliculties by offer-
ing himself, now the lire Avas ready, as he had been forward
enough to do when there Avas no fuel in sight.
]Morc movement to and fro, more discussion ; and the after-
noon seemed to be slipping away all the faster because the
clouds liad gathered, and changed the liglit on every thing,
JROMOLA, 477
and sent a chill through the spectators, hungry in mind and
body.
}fo\o it M'as the crucifix •which Fra Donienico wanted to
carry into the fire and must not be allowed to profane in that
manner. After some little resistance Savonarola gave way to
this objection, and thus had the advantage of making one
more concession ; but he immediately placed in Fra Domenico's
hands the vessel containing the conseci'ated Host. The idea
that the presence of the sacred Mystery might in the worst
extremity avert the ordinary effects of fire hovered in his
mind as a possibility ; but the issue on which he counted was
of a more positive kind. In taking up the Host he said, quiet-
ly, as if he were only doing what had been presupposed from
the first,
" Since they are not willing that you should enter with the
crucifix, my brother, enter simply witli the Sacrament."
New horror in the Franciscans ; new firmness in Savonarola.
" It was impious presumption to carry the Sacrament into the
fire : if it were burned the scandal would be great in the minds
of the weak and ignorant." " Not at all : even if it were burn-
ed, the Accidents only would be consumed, the Substance would
remain." Here was a question that might be argued till set
of sun and remain as elastic as ever ; and no one could pro-
pose settling it by proceeding to the trial, since it was essential-
ly a i^reliminary question. It was only necessaiy that both
sides should remain fii-m — that the Franciscans should persist
in not permitting the Host to be carried into the fire, and that
Fra Domenico should persist in refusing to enter without it.
Meanwhile the clouds were getting darker, the air chiller.
Even the chanting was missed, now it had given Avay to in-
audible argument ; and the contused sounds of talk from all
points of the Piazza, showing that expectation was everywhere
relaxing, contributed to the irritating presentiment that noth-
ing decisive would be done. Here and there a dropping shout
was heard ; then, more frequent shouts in a rising scale of
scorn.
*' Light the fire and driv'e them in !" " Let tis have a smell
of roast — we want our dinner !" " Come, Prophet, let us know
whether any thing is to happen before the twenty-four hourii
are over!" "Yes, yes, Avhat's your last vision?" "Oh, he's
got a dozen in his inside ; they're the small change for a mir-
acle !" " Ola, Frate, where are you ? Never mind Avasting
ihe fuel !"
Still the same movement to and fro between the Loggia
»nd the Palace ; still the same debate, slow and unintelligible
to the multitude as the colloquies of insects that touch an-
478 IIOMOLA.
tenna3 to no other apparent effect tlian that of going and com.
ing. IJiit an interpretation was not long wanting to unlieard
♦It'bates in wliicli Fra (rirnlamut the Loggia was Avell guarded by the band under the
brave Salviati ; the soldiers of the Signoria assisted in the re-
]nilse ; and the trampling and rushing were all backward
again towards the Tetto de' I'isani, when the l)la<"kness of
the heavens seemed to intensify in this moment of utter
confusion, and the rain, which had already been felt in scat-
tered drops, began to fall with raj)idly growing violence, Avet-
ting the fuel, and running in streams off the platform, wetting
the weary, liungry people to the skin, and driving every man's
disgust and rage inward to ferment there in the damj) dark-
ness.
Every body knew now that the trial by fire was not to
ha])])en. Tlie Signoria Avas doubtless glad of the rain, as an
obvious reason, tetter than any pretext, for declaring that
botli i)arties might go home. It was the issue which Savo-
narola had expected and desired ; yet it would be an ill de-
scription of what he felt to say that he was glad. As that
rain fell, and j)la.shed on the edge of the Loggia, and sent
Mpray over the altar and all garments and faces, the Frate
knew that the demand for him or his to enter the fire was ai
an end. j>ut he knew too, with a certainty as irrosistib'e as
the damj) chill that had taken ]»ossession of his frame, that
the design of his enemies was fulfilled, and that his honor was
not saved. He knew that he should have to make his way to
San Marco again thiough the enraged crowd, and that the
hearts of many friends who would once have defended hin'v
witli tlieir lives would now be turned against him.
When the rain had ceased he asked for a guard from tho
ROM OLA. 479
Signoria, and it was given him. Had he said that he was
willing to die for the work of his life ? Yes, and he had not
spoken falsely. But to die in dishonor — held up to scorn as
a hypocrite and a false prophet ? " Oh God ! that is not
martyrdom ! It is the blotting out of a life that has been a
protest against Avrong. Let me die because of the worth that
is in me, not because of my v/eakness."
The rain had ceased, and the light from the breaking
clouds fell on Savonarola as he left the Loggia in the midst
of his guard, Avalking, as he had come, with the Sacrament in
bis liand. But there seemed no glory in the light that fell on
him now, no smile of Heaven : it was only that light Avhich
shines on, patiently and impartially, justifying or condemning
by simply showing all things in the slow history of their
ripening. He heard no blessing, no tones of pity, but only
taunts and threats. He knew this was but a foretaste of
commg bitterness ; yet his courage mounted under all moral
attack, and he showed no sign of dismay.
" Well parried, Frate !" said Tito, as Savonarola descended
the steps of the Loggia. " But I fear your career at Florence
is ended. What say you, my Niccolo V
" It is a pity his falsehoods were not all of a wise sort,"
said MacchiaveUi, with a melancholy shrug. "With the
times so much on his side as they are about church affairs, lie
might have done something great."
CHAPTER LXVL
A MASQUE OF THE FUKIES.
The next day was Palm Sunday, or Olive Sunday, as it
was chiefly called in the olive-growing Valdarno ; and the
morning sun shone with a more delicious clearness for the
yesterday's rain. Once more Savonarola mounted the pulpit
in San Marco, and saw a flock around him whose faith in liim
was still unshaken ; and this morning in calm and sad sin-
cerity he declared himself ready to die : in the front of all
visions he saw his own doom. Once more he uttered the
benediction, and saw the faces of men and women lifted to-
wards him in venerating love. Then he descended the steps
of the pulpit and turned away from that sight forever.
For before the sun had set Florence was in an uproar.
The passions which had been roused the day before had been
smouldering through that quiet morning, and had now burst
out again with a fury not unassisted by design, and not with-
480 KOMOL.\-
out official connivance. Tlic uproar Tiad begun at the Duomo
ill an attempt of some Compatinacci to hinder tlie evening
sermon, wliii-h tlie Piagnoni liad assembled to hear, liut no
sooner hud men's blood mounted and the disturbances had
become an affray than the cry arose, " To Han Marco ! the lire
to San ^[arco !"
And long before the daylight had ilied, both the church
and convent were being besieged by an enraged and contiim-
ally increasing multitude. Not without resistance ; for the
monks, long conscious of growing hostility without, had arn*8
within their walls, and some of them fought as vigorously in
their long white tunics as if they liad been Knights Tomi)lars.
Even the command of Savonarola could not prevail against
the imi>ulse to self-defense in arms that were still muscular
under the Dominican serge. There were laymen too who had
not chosen to depart, and some of them fought fiercely : there
was firing from the high altar close by the great crucilix, there
was pouring of stones and hot embers from the convent roof,
there was close fighting with swords in the cloisters. Not-
withstanding the force of the assailants, the attack lasted till
dcej) night.
The demonstrations of the Government had all been against
tlie convent ; early in the attack guards had been sent, not to
disperse the assailants, but to command all within the convent
to lav down their arms, all laymen to depart from it, and Sa-
vonarola himself to quit the Florentine territory within twelve
liours. Had Savonarola quitted the convent then he could
hardly have escajted being torn to pieces; he was willing to
go, but his friends hindered him. It was felt to be a great
risk even for some laymen of high name to depart by the gar-
den wall, but among those who liad chosen to do so was Fran-
cesco Valori, who hoped to raise rescue from without.
And now when it was deep night — when the struggle couhl
hardly have lasted much longer, and the C'ompagnacci might
soon have carried their swords into the liljrary, where Savo-
narola was praying with the JJrethron who had either not taken
up arms or had laid them down at Ids command — there came
a second body of guards, commissioned by the Signoria to de-
numd the ])ersons of Fra (iirolamo and his two coadjutors,
Fra Domcnico and Fra Salvestro.
Loud was the roar of triumphant hate wlien the light of
lanterns showed the Frate issuing from the door of the con-
vent with a guard who jiromisedhim no other safety than that
of the ])rison. The struggle now was, who should get first
in the stream that rushed up the narrow street to see the
l*roph(t carrie(l baek in ignominy to the Piazza where he had
KOMOLA. 481
braved it yesterday — who should be in the best place for
reaching his ear with insult, nay, if possible, for smiting him
and kicking him. This was not difficult for some of the armed
Compagnacci who were not prevented from mixing themselves
with the guards.
When Savonarola felt himself dragged and pushed along in
the midst of that hooting multitude; when lanterns were lift-
ed to show him deriding faces ; when he felt himself spat upon,
smitten and kicked with grossest words of insult, it seemed to
him that the Avorst bitterness of life was past. If men judged
him guilty, and were bent on having his blood, it was only
death that awaited him. But the worst drop of bitterness
can never be wrung on to our lips from without: the lowest
depth of resignation is not to be found in martyrdom ; it is
only to be found when we have covered our heads in silence
and felt, " I am not worthy to be a martyr : the truth shall
prosper, but not b}^ me."
But that brief imperfect triumph of insulting the Frate,who
had soon disappeared under the doorway of the Old Palace,
W'as only like the taste of blood to the tiger. Were there not
the houses of the hypocrite's friends to be sacked? Already
one half of the armed multitude, too much in the rear to share
greatly in the siege of the convent, had beeT\ employed in the
more profitable work of attacking rich houses, not with plan-
less desire for plunder, but with that discriminating selection
of such as belonged to chief Piagnoni, which showed that the
riot was under guidance, and that the rabble with clubs and
staves were well officered by sword-girt Compagnacci. Was
tliere not — next criminal after the Frate — the ambitious
Francesco Yalori, suspected of wanting with the Frate's help
to make himself a Doge or Gonfalonicre for life? And the
gray-haired man who, eight months ago, had lifted his arm
and his voice in such ferocious demand for justice on five of
his fellow-citizens, only escaped from San Marco to experience
what others called justice — to see his house surrounded by an
angry, greedy multitude, to see his wife shot dead with an ar-
row, and to be himself murdered, as he was on his way to an-
swer a summor.s to the Palazzo, by the swords of men named
Ridolfi and Tornabuoni.
In this way that Masque of the Furies, called Riot, was
played on in Florence through the Hours of night and early
morning.
But the chief director was not visible : he had his reasons
for issuing his orders from a private retreat, being of rather
too high a name to let his red feather be seen waving among
all the work that was to be done before the dawn. The re-
st
4P2 KOMOLA.
treat was tlie same house ami tlje same room in a quiet street
between Saiita Croce and San ]\Iarco, where we have seen Tito
])aying a secret visit to Dolfo Sj>iui. Here the eaptain of tlio
Coin|>a!Lpiacei sat through this memorable night, receiving vis-
itors wlio came and went, and went and came, some of them in
tlic guise of armed Compagnacci, others dressed obscurely and
without visiljlc arms. There was abundant wine on tl>e tal)h^,
with *hinking-cu})S for cliance comers ; and though Sj)ini was
©n his guard against excessive drinking, he took enougli from
time to time to heighten the excitement produced by tlie news
that was being brought to him continually.
Among the obscurely dressed visitors Ser Ceccone was one
of the most frequent, and as the hours advanced towards morn-
ing twiliglit he had remained as Sj»ini's constant companion,
together with Francesco Cei, who was then in lallier careless
hiding in Florence, expecting to have his banishment revoked
"when the Frate's fall had been accomplishe and down with an angry flush on his face at some
talk that had been going forward with those two unmilitary
companions, burst out —
"The devil spit him ! he shall pay for it, though. Ha, ha !
the claws shall be down on him Avhen he little thinks of them.
So he was to be the great man after all ! lie's been pretend-
ing to chuck every thing towards my cap, as if I were a blind
beggarman, and all the while lie's been winking and filling his
own scarsella. I should likjj to hang skins about him and set
Tuy hounds on him ! And he's got that fine ruby of mine I
was fool enough to give liim yesterday. ]Malediction ! And
he was laughing at me in his sleeve two yeais ago, and sj)oil-
ing the best plan that ever was laid. I was a fool for trusting
myself with a rascal who had long-twisted contrivances that
uobody could see to the end of but himself."
"A Greek, too, who dropjjcd into Florence with gems
packed about him," said Francesco Cei, wlio had a slight smile
of junusement on his face at Spini's fuming. " You did not
choose your confidant very wisely, my Dolfo."
" He's a cursed deal cleverer than you, Franc<>sco, and
handsomer too," said Spini, turning on his associate with a
general desire to worry any thing that ])reseMted itself,
"I humbly conceiVe," said Scr (.'eccone, '■ that jNIesscr
Francesco's poetic genius will outweigh — "
"Yes, yes, rub your hands! I hate that notary's trick vA
•''ill
yours," interrupted Sjiini, whose jiatronage consisted lai'gely
iiOMOLA 483
in this sort of frankness. " But there comes Taddeo, or some-
body : now's the time ! What news, eh ?" he went on, as two
Compagnacci entered with heated looks.
" Bad !" said one. " The people had made up their rainda
they were going to have the sacking of Soderini's house, and
now they've been balked we shall have them turning on us if
vra don't take care. I suspect there are some Mediceans buzz-
ing about among them, and we may see thera attacking your
palace over the bridge before long, unless we can find a bait
for them another way."
"I have it," said Spini, and seizing Taddeo by the belt he
drew him aside to give him directions, while the other went
on telling Cei how the Signoria had interfered about Soderini'o
house.
" Ecco !" exclaimed Spini, presently giving Taddeo a slight
push towards the door. " Go, and make cpiick work."
CHxiPTER LXVn.
WAITING BY THE RIVER.
About the time when the two Compagnaeci went on their
errand, there was another man who, on l;he opposite side of
the Arno, was also going out into the chill gray twilight.
His errand, apparently, could have no relation to theirs ; he
Avas making his way to the brink of the river at a spot which,
though within the city walls, was overlooked by no dwell-
ings, and which only seemed the more shrouded and lonely
for the warehouses and granaries which at some little dis-
tance backward turned their shoulders to the river. There
was a sloping width of long grass and rushes, made all the
more dank by broad gutters which here and there emptied
themselves into the Arno.
The gutters and the loneliness were the attraction that
drew this man to come and sit down among the grass, and
bend over the waters that ran swiftly in the channelled slope
at his side. For he had once had a large piece of bread
brought to him by one of those friendly^runlets, and more
than once a raw carrot and apple parings. It was worth
while to wait for such chances in a place where there was no
one to see, and often in his restless wakefulness ho came to
watch here before daybreak ; it might save him f< r one day
the need of tliat silent begging, which consisted in sitting on
a church ste]> or by the way-side out beyond the Forta"Saii
Frediano.
484 EOMOLA.
For Baklassarrc hated begging so much that he would
ha\H' |K'iliaps chosen to die rather tliau make even that sileut
appral, hut ior one reason tliat made him di'sire to live. It
was no longer a hope; it was oidy that possihility which
clings to every idea that lias taken coniplete possession of
the mind ; the sort of possibility that makes a woman watch
on a headland for the ship which liehl something dear, though
all her neighbors are certain that the ship was a wreck long
years ago. After he had come out of the convent hospital,
where the monks of San ^liniatohad taken care of him as long
as he was helj)less ; after he had watched in vain for the wife
who was to helj) him, and had begun to think that she was
dead of the ])estilence that seeme«l to fill all the space since
the night he parted Ironi her, he had b -en unable to conceive
anv wav in which sacred veuLseauce could satisfy itself
through his arm. His knife Avas gone, and he was too feeble
in body to win another by work, too feeble in mind, even if
he had had the knife, to contrive that it should serve its one
])urpose. He was a shattered, bewildered, lonely old man;
yet he desired to live : he waited for something of which he
had no distinct vision — something dim, formless — that star-
tled him, and made strong j)ulsations within him, like that
uidiie ! Throw him over the bri struck down or tram} li-d on before he reache- arch of the eyebrows, and tlie long lustrous
agate-like eyes. Onward the face went on tlie dark current,
with inflated quivering nostrils, with the blue veins distended
on the temples. One bridge was passed- — the bridge of Santa
Trinita. Should he risk landing now rather than trust to his
strength ? No. He heard, or fancied he heard, yells and
cries pui-suing him. Terror pressed liim most from the side of
his fellow-men : he was less afraid of indefinite chances ; and
he swam on, panting and straining. He was not so fresh as
he would have been if he had passed the night in sleep.
Yet the next bridge — tlie last bridge — was passed. He
was conscious of it ; but in that tumult of his blood he could
only feel vaguely that he was safe and might land. But
where ? Tlie current was having its way with him : he
hai-dly knew where he was : exhaustion was bringing on the
dreamy state that precedes unconsciousness.
But now there were eyes that discerned him — aged eyes,
strong for the distance. Baldassarre, looking up blankly
from the search in the runlet that brought him nothing, had
seen a white object coming along the broader stream. Could
that be any fortunate chance for him f He looked and look-
ed till the object gathered fomi ; then he leaned forward Avith
a start as he sat amons: the rank screen stems, and his eyes
seemed to be filled with a new light. Yet he only watched
— motionless. Somethina: was being brought to him.
The next instant a man's body was cast violently on the
grass two yards from him, and he started forward like a
panther, clutching the velvet tunic as he fell forward on the
body and flashed a look in the man's face.
Dead — was he dead? The eyes were rigid. But no, it
could not be — ^justice had brought him. Men looked dead
sometimes, and yet the life came back into them. Baldas-
sarre did not feel feeble in that moment. He knew just Avhat
he could do. He got his large fingers within the neck of
the tunic and held them there, kneeling on one knee beside
the body and watching the face. There was a fierce hope in
his heart, but it was mixed with trembling. In his eyes
there was only fierceness ; all the slow-burning remnant of
life within him seemed to have leaped into flame.
Rigid — rigid still. Those eyes with the half-fallen lida
were locked against vengeance. Could it be that he was
dead ? There was nothing to measure the time ; it seemed
long enough for hope to freeze into despair.
Surely at last the eyelids were quivering ; the eyes were
no longer rigid. There was a vibrating light in them — they
opened wide.
4S!3 KOMOI.A.
" Ah yes ! You see rao — you know me !"
Tito know him; Init ho did not know wliothcr it was life
or «loath that liad brout^ht liini into the ])raused there and listened : the mother of the
child must be near, the cry must soon cease. r>ut it went on,
and drew liomola so irresistibly, seeming the more j)iteousto
her for the sense of peace which had jnx'ceded it, that she jump-
ed on to the beach and walked many paces before she knew what
direct ion she would take. The cry, she though t, cunc from some
rough garden growth many yards on her right hand, wiiere she
saw a halfruined hovel. She climbed over a low broken stone
Jfence, and made licr way across patches of weedy green crops
UOMOLA. 491
and vipe but neglected corn. The cry grew plainer, and, con
vinced that she was right, she hastened towards the hovel ; but
even in that hurried walk she felt an oppressive change in the air
as she left the sea behind. AVas there some taint lurking among
the green luxuriance that had seemed such an inviting shel-
ter from the heat of the coming day ? She could see the open-
ing into the hovel noAV, and the cry was darting through her
like a pain. The next moment her foot Avas within the door-
w^ay, but the sight she beheld in the sombre light arrested
her Avitli a shock of awe and horror. On the straw with
which the floor Avas scattered lay three dead bodies, one of
a tall man, one of a girl about eight years old, and one of a
young woman whose long blnck hair was being clutched and
pulled by a living child — the child that was sending forth
the piercing cry. Romo^a's experience in the haunts of death
and disease made thought and action prompt : she lifted the
little living child, and in trying to soothe it on her bosom,
still bent to look at the bodies and see if they were really
dead. The strongly marked type of race in their features
and their peculiar garb made her conjecture that they were
Spanish or Portuguese Jews, who had perhaps been pat ashore
and abandoned there by rapacious sailors, to whom their prop-
erty remained as a prey. Such things were happening con-
tinually to Jews compelled to abandon their homes by the
Inquisition : the cruelty of greed thrust them from the sea,
and the cnielty of superstition thrust them back to it.
" But, surely," thought Romola, " I shall find some woman
in the village whose mother's heart will not let her refuse to
tend this helpless child — if the real mother is indeed dead."
This doubt remained, because while the man and girl look-
ed emaciated and also showed signs of having been long dead,
the woman seemed to have been hardier, and had not quite
lost the robustness of her form. Romola, kneeling, Avas about
to lay her hand on the heart ; but as she lifted the piece of
yelloAv Avoollen drapery that lay across the bosom, she saAV
the purple spots Avhich marked the familiar pestilence. Then
it struck her that if the villagers kncAV of this she might have
more difficulty than she had expected in getting help from
them ; they Avould perhaps shrink from her Avith that child
in her arms. But she had money to oifer them, and they
Avould not refuse to give her some goat's milk in exchange
for it.
She set out at once tOAvards the village, her mind filled
noAv Avith the effort to soothe the little dark creature, and
Avith Avondering hoAV she should Avin some woman to be good
to it. She could not help hoping a little in a certain aAve she
C02 RftMuLA.
hud observed herself to inspire, when she appeared, unknowa
and unexpected, ill lier religious dress. As she passed across
a Ijreadth of cultivated -hcn once she knew what was to be done.
Promising the sick woman to come back to her, she lifted
the dark bantling again, and set otf toAvards the slope. Sho
felt no burden of choice on her now, no U)nging for death.
She was thinking how she would go to the other. sullerers as
she had gone to that fevered woman.
IJut, with the child on her arm, it was not so easy to her
as usual to walk np a slo|)e, and it seemed a long while be-
fore the winding j)ath took her near the cow and the goats.
Slu' was beginning herself to feel faint from heat, hunger, and
thirst, and as she reached a double turning she paused to
consider whether she Avould not v>ait near the cow, which
some one was likely to come and milk soon, rather than toil
uj) to the church before she had taken any rest. JJaising her
eyes to measure the steep distance, slie saw peejiing between
the boughs, not more than live yards olf, a broad round iace,
watching her attentively, and lower down the black skirt of
a j)riest's garment, and a hand grasping a bucket. She stood
mutely observing; and the face, too, remained molioidess.
Ivomola liad often witnessed the overpowering force of dread
in cases of pestilence, and she was cautious.
liaising her voice in a tone of gentle ]»leading, she said, " I
came over the sea. I am hungry, and so is the child. Will
you nf)t give us some milk':'"
Homola had divined ))art of the truth, but she had not
divined that preoccupat ion of the ])riest's mind which charged
iu'r words with a strangt- sii^nificance. Only a little while
ago the young acolyte had brought word to the I'adre that
he ])ad seen the Holy Mother with the Babe, fetching water
f(;r tlie sick : she was as tall as the cypresses, and had a light
about her liead and slu^ looked np at the church. The pieva-
no* iiad not listened with entire beliif: lu; liaut ho had
;K'en made uneasy, and before venturing to come down and
* rarisb priest.
I
ROMOLA. 495
milk his cow he had repeated many aves. The pievano's
conscience tormented him a little: he trembled at the pesti-
lence ; but he also trembled at the thought of the mild-faced
Mother, conscious that that Invisible Mercy miglit demand
something more of him than prayers and "Hails." In this
state of mind — unable to banish the image the boy had raised
of the Mother with the glory about her tending the sick — the
pievano had come down to milk his cow, and had suddenly
caught siglit of Roniola pausing at the parted Avay. Her
pleading words, with their strange refinement of tone and ac-
cent, instead of being explanatory, had a preternatural sound
for him. Yet he did not quite believe he saw the Holy
Mother: he was in a state of alarmed hesitation. If any
thing miraculous were happening, he felt there Avas no strong
presumption that the miracle would be in his favor. He
dared not run away ; he dared not advance.
"Come down," said Romola, after a pause, "Do not
fear. Fear rather to deny food to the hungry when they
ask you."
A moment after the boughs were parted, and the complete
figure of a thick-set priest, Avith a broad, harmless face, his
bfack frock much Avorn and soiled, stood, bucket in hand,
looking at her timidly, and still keeping aloof as he took the
path towards the cow in silence.
Romola followed him and Avatched him Avithout speaking
again, as he seated himself against the tethered coav, and,
•when he had nervously draAvn some milk, gave it to her in a
brass cup he carried Avith liini in the bucket. As Romola put
the cup to tlie lips of the eager child, and afterwards drank
some milk herself, the Padre observed her from his wooden
stool with a timidity that changed its character a little. He
recognized the HebrcAv baby ; he Avas certain that he had a
substantial Avoman before him ; but there Avas still something
strange and unaccountable in Roraola's presence in this spot,
and the Padre had a presentiment that things Avere going to
change Avith him. Moreover, that Hebrew baby Avas terribly
associated Avith the dread of pestilence.
Xevertheless, Avhen Romola smiled at the little one suck-
ing its own milky lips, and stretched out the Ijrass cup
again, saying, "Give us more, good father," he obeyed lesa
nerA'ously then before.
Romola, on her side, Avas not unobservant ; and when the
second supply of milk had been drunk, she looked down at
the round-headed man, and said, with mild decision,
" And now tell me, father, how this pestilence came, anr!
why you let your people die Avithout the sacraments, and he
496 komola.
un])uricil. For I am come over the sea to help those who
;iro k'l't alive — and you, too, will help them now."
He told her the story of the ])estilcnce; and while he was
telliuLT it, the youth who haint;
and advanciiiLr ijradnally till at last he stood and watched
the scene from behind a neighboring bush.
Three families of Jews, twenty souls in all, had been put
ashore many weeks ago, some of them already ill of the pes*
tilence. The villagers, said the ])riest, had of course refused
to give shelter to the miscreants, otherwise than in a distant
hovel, and under lieaps of straw. IJut when the strangers
l)ad died of the ])lague, and some of the jieople had thrown
the bodies into the sea, the sea had brouglit them back again
in a great storm, and every body was smitten with terror.
A grave was dug, and the bodies were buried; but then the
pestilence attacked the Christians, and the greater number
of the villagers went away over the mountain, diiving away
their few cattle, and carrying ])rovisions. The priest liad not
fled ; he liad staid and piayed for the ]>eople, and he had pre-
vailed on the youth Jacopo to stay with iiiin ; but he con-
fessed that a mortal terror of the ])lague liad taken hold of
him, and he had not dared to go down into the valley.
" You will fear no longer, father," said Komola, in a tone
of encouraging authoiity ; "you will come down with me,
and we will see who is living, and we Avill look for the dead
to bury them. I have walked about for months where the
pestilence was, and see, I am strong. Jacopo will come with
us," she added, motioning to the peeping lad, who came slow-
ly from behind his defensive bush, as if invisible threads were
dragging him.
" Come, Jacopo," said Romola, again smiling at him, " yo\i
will carry the child forme. See! your arms are strong, and
I am tired."
That was a dreadful jtroposal to Jacopo, and to the priest
also, but they were both under a peculiar influence forcing
them to obey. The suspicion tliat Komola was a supernatu-
ral form was dissipated, but their minds Avere filled instead
A!th the more elfective sense that she was a human being'
ivhom Ci£>d had sent over the sea to command them.
" Now we will carry down the milk," said Komola, " and
T'CC if any one wants it."
So tiicy went all together down the slope, and that morn-
ing the suflerers saw help come to them in their despair.
There were hardly more tlum a score alive in the Avhole val-
ley ; but all of these were comlorted, most were saved, and
the dead were buried.
ROMOLA. 491
In this way days, weeks, and months passed with Romola
till the men were diggino; and sowing again, till the women
smiled at her as they carried their ^I'eat vases on their lieads
to the well, and the Hebrew baby was a tottering, tumbling
Christian, Benedetto by name, having been baptized in the
church on the mountain side. But by that time she herself
was suiFering from the fatigue and languor that miist come
after a continuous strain on mind and body. She had taken
for her dwelling one of the houses abandoned by their own-
ers, standing a little aloof from the village street ; and here
on a thick heap of clean straw — a delicious bed for those
who do not dream of down — she felt glad to lie still through
most of the daylight hours, taken care of, along with the lit-
tle Benedetto, by a woman whom the pestilence had wid-
owed.
Every day the Padre and Jacopo and the small flock of
surviving villagers paid their visit to this cottage to see the
blessed Lady, and to bring her of their best as an offering —
honey, fresh cakes, eggs, and polenta. It was a sight they
could none of them forget, a sight they all told of in their old
age — how the sweet and sainted lady with her fair face, her
golden hair, and her brown eyes that had a blessing in them,
lay weary with her labors after she had been sent over the
sea to help them in their extremity, and how the queer little
black Benedetto used to crawl about the straw by her side
and want every tiling that was brought to hei", and she al-
ways gave him a bit of what she took, and told them if they
loved her they must be good to Benedetto.
Many legends were afterwards told in that valley about
the blessed Lady who came over the sea, but they were le-
gends by which all who heard might know that in times
gone by a woman had done beautiful loving deeds there, res-
cuing those Avho were ready to perish.
CHAPTER LXLX.
HOMEWARD.
Ijt those silent wintry hours when Romola lay resting
irom her weariness, her mind, travelling back over the past,
and gazmg across the undefined distance of the future, saw
all objects from a new position. Her experience since the
moment of her waking in the boat had come to her with as
strong an effect as that of the fresh seal on the dissolving
wax. She had felt herself without bonds, without motive ;
498 ROMOLA.
1
y
sinldni^ in mere cij'^istic cninplaiiiini:^ that llfo could brli\<»
her no content ; fcelinij a ri^ht to say,'' 1 am tired vA' life; I
want to die." That thought had sobbed within her as she
fell asleep, but from the moment after her wakin£r when the
cry had drawn her, she had not even reflected, as she used to
do iu Florence, that she was glad to live because she could
lighten sorrow — she had simply lived, with so energetic an
impulsi' to share the life around her, t(» answer the call of
need, ami do the work which cried aloud to be done, that the
reasons for living, enduring, laboring, never took the form of
argument
The experience was like a new baptism to Komola. Tu
F'lorence tlie sim))ler relations of the human being to his fel-
low-nu'ii had been complicated for her with all the special
ties of marriage, the State, and religious ■discij)leship, and
■when these hail disai)poiiited her trust the shock seemed to
have shaken her aloof from life and stunned her sympathy.
But now she said, " It was 7nere baseness in me to desire
death. If every thing else is doubtful, this suftering that I
can help is certain; if the glory of the cress is an illusion, the
sorrow is only the truer. While the strength is in my arm
I will stretch it out to the fainting; while the light visits
my eyes they shall seek the forsaken."
And then the past arose with a fresh appeal to her. Iler
work in this green valley was done, and the emotions that
Avere disengaged from the ]>eo])le immediately around her
rushed back into the old ileep channels of use and alVection.
That rare possibility of self-contemplation which comes iu
any coin])lcti' severance from our wonted life made her Judge
herself as ^ln- had never done l)efore; the comjmnction which
is inseparable from a sympathetic nature keenly alive to the
possible ex])erience of others began to stir in her with grow-
ing force. She (juestioiied the justness of her own conclu-
sions, of her own deeds ; she had been rash, arrogant, always
dissatisfied that others were not good enough, while she her-
fself had not l)ceti true to what her soul had once recognized
as the best. She began to condemn her llight : after all, it
liad been cowardly self-care ; the grounds on which Savona-
rola had once taken her back were truer, deeper than the
grounds she had had for her second flight. How could she
feel the needs of others and not feel above all the needs of
the nearest.
l?ut tlien '.■■un.' reaction ngninst such s'ard doubting glances.
Romola shrank with dread from the renewal of her prox-
imity to Tito, and yet she was uneasy that she had put her-
self out of i-each of knowing Avhat was his fate — uneasy that
the moment miglit yet come when he would be in misery
and need her. There v.-as still a thread of pain within her,
testifying to those words of Fra Girolamo, that she could
not cease to be a wife. Could any thing utterly cease for
her that had once mingled itself with the current of her
heart's blood ?
Florence, and all lier life there, had come back to her like
hunger; her feelings could not go v,andering after the possi-
ble and the vague : their living fibre was fed Avith the niem-
ory of familiar tilings. And the thought that she had di-
vided herself from them forever became more and more im-
portunate in these hours that were unfilled with action.
What if Fra Girolamo had been wrong ? What if the life
of Florence was a web of inconsistencies ? Was she, then,
something higher, that she should shake the dust from off
her feet and say, " This Avorld is not good enough for me ?"
If she had been really higher, she would not so easily have
lost all her trust.
Her indignant grief for her godfather had no longer com-
plete possession of her, and her sense of debt to Savonarola
was recovering predominance. Kotliing that had come, or
was to come, could do away with the fact that there had '
been a great inspiration in him which had waked a new life
in her. Who, in all her experience, could demand the same
gratitude from her as he ? His errors — might they not bring
calamities ?
She could not rest. She hardly knew whether it was her
fetrength returning with the budding leaves that made her
active as^ain, or whetlier it was her eager longing to get
nearer Florence. She did not imagine herself daring to en-
ter Florence, but the desire to be near enough to learn what
was happening there urged itself with a strength that exo^-«'
ded all other purposes.
coo ROMOI.A.
And one INIarch morning the people in the valley ■were
patlicri'd tofjether to sec tlie Messed Lady depart. Jacopo
liad litelied a mule for lii-r, and was going with her ovei
the mountains. The Padre, too, was going with her to the
nearest town, that he might help her in Uarniiig the safest
way by whieh she might get to Pistoja. Her store of trin-
kets and money, untouched in this valley, was abundant for
her needs.
If Komola had been less drawn by the longing that was
taking her away, it would ha\ e bt'cu a hard moment Ibr lu-r
when she walked along the village street for the last time,
while the Padre and Jacopo, with the mule were awaiting
her near the well. Her steps were hindei"ed by the wailing
people, who knelt and kissed her liands, then clung to her
f.kirts and kissed the gray folds, crying, " Ah, why will you
go, when the good season is beginning and the crops will be
plentiful? Why will you go?"
" Do not be sorry," said Komola ; " you are well now, and
I shall remember you. I must go and see if my own people
want me."
" Ah, yes, if they have the pestilence !"
" Look at us again, ]\Iadoima !"
"Yes, yes, we Mill be good to the little Benedetto !"
At last Pomola mounted her mule, but a vigorous scream-
ing from Benedetto as he saw her turn from him in this new
position, was an excuse for all the ]ieople to follow her and
insist that he must ride on the mule's neck to the loot of the
slope.
The parting must come at last, but as Komola turned con-
tinually Ix'fore she jtassed out of sight, she saw the little
fluck lingering to catch the last waving of her hand.
CHAFrKK LXX.
MEETING AGA IN.
On the fourteenth of April Komola was once more within,
the walls of Florence. Unable to rest at Pistoja, where con-
tradictory reports reached her about the Trial by Fire, she
had gone on to Prato; and was beginning to think that she
shoidd be drawn on to Florence in spite of dread, Avhen she
encountered that monk of San S])irito who had been her god-
father's confessor. From him she leariu'd the full story of
Savonarola's arrest and of her husl»and's death. This An-
gubtinian monk had been in the stream of ueople who had
UOilOLA, 501
followed the wagon with its awful burden into the Piazza,
and he could telfher what Avas generally known in Florence
— that Tito had escaped from an assaulting mob by leaping
into the Arno, but had been murdered on the bank by an old
man who had long had an enmity against him. But Romo-
la understood the catastrophe as no one else did. Of Sayo'
narola the monk told her, in that tone of unfavorable preju-
dice Avhich was usual in the Black Brethren (Frati Xeri) to-
■wards the brother who showed white under his black, that
lie had confessed himself a deceiver of the people.
Romola paused no longer. That evening she was in
Florence, sitting in agitated silence under the exclamations
of joy and Availing, mingled with exuberant narrative, which
were poured into her ears by Monna Brigida, who had retro-
graded to false hair in Romola's absence, but now^ drew it
off again and declared she would not mind bein g gray, if her
dear'child would stay with her. " ~^
Romola was too deeply moved by the main events wdiich
she had known before coming to Florence to be wrought
upon by the doubtful gossiping details added in Brigida's
narrative. The tragedy of her husband's death, of Fra Giro-
lanio's confession of duplicity under the coercion of torture,
left her hardly any power of apprehending minor circum-
stances. All the mental activity she could exert under that
load of awe-stricken grief was absorbed by two purposes
which must supersede every other ; to try and see Savona-
rola, and to learn Avhat had become of Tessa and the chil-
dren.
" Tell me, cousin," she said abruptly, when Monna Brigi-
da's tongue had run quite away from troubles into projects
• of Romola's living Avith her, " has any thing been seen or
said since Tito's death of a young Avonian Avith tAvo little
children ?"
Brigida started, rounded her eyes, and lifted up her hands.
" Cristo ! no. What ! Avas he so bad as that, my poor
child ? Ah, then, that Avas Avhy you Avent away, and left me
w^ord only that you Avent of your own free-will. Well, Avell ;
if I'd knoVn that I shouldn't have thought you so strange
and flighty. For I did say to myself, though I didn't tell
any body else, ' "What was she to go aAvay from her husband
for, leaving him to mischief, only because they cut poor Ber-
nardo's head off? She's got her father's temper,' I said,
' that's what it is.' Well, Avell ; never scold me, child : Bardo
was fierce, you can't deny it. But if you had only told me
the truth, that there Avas a young hussy and children, I
should have understood it all. Any thing seen or said of
502 HOMOLA.
her? No; and the less the bettir. They sfiy enough of ill
about him withouc that. But since tlial was the reason you
■went — '
" No, dear cousin," said liuinola, iiiterru|>liiiLC lier earnest-
ly, " })ray do not talk so. I wisli above all things to find
that young woman and her eliildreii, and to take care of them.
They are (juite lu'lpless. Sav nothing against it : that is the
thing I shall d<. first of all."'
" Well," said Monna Brigida, shrugging her shoulders and
■jowi'ring her voice with an air of ])uzzled discoinfituri-, "if
that's being a Piagnone, Tve been taking j)t'as for j»aternos-
ters. Why, Fra Girolamo said as good as that widows ought
not to marry again. Step in at the door and it's a sin and
a shame, it seems ; but come down the chimney and you're
Avelcome. Tiro children — Santiddio !"
" Cousin, the poor thing has done no conscious wrong : she
is ignorant of every thing. I will tell you — but not now."
Early the next morning Komola's stejjs were directed to
the house beyond San Ambrogio where she had once found
Tessa; but it was as she harigida's in the
Borgo degli iVlbizzi. Komola had made known to Tessa by
gentle degrees that Naldo could never come to her again;
not because he was cruel, but becansc he was dead.
" But be comfortehetic gift,tlic denial bad only been wrcnclied from liini by
the agony of torture — agoiiy tliat, in his sensitive frame, must,
'piickly produce raving. What if these wicked examinei> de-
clared that he bad only had the torture of the rojje and pul-
ley thrice, and only on one day, and that Ids confessions
liad been made when he was under no Ixnlily coercion — Mas
that to be believed V lie ha*l been tortured ?nuch ntore ; lio
liad been tortured in proportion to the distress Ids confessions
had createil in tlie liearts of those who loved liim.
Other friends of Savonarola, wlio were less ardent ]nirtisans,
did not doubt tlie substantial geuuineness of tlie confession,
however it might have been colored by the transpositions and
additioi>s of liie notary; but they argued indiguanlly that
there was nothing which could warrant a condemnation to
death, or even to grave punishment. It must l>e clear to all
impartiainien that if this examination representi-d the only
evi'ience against the Frate, he would die, m>t ior any crime,
but because he had made himself inconvenient to the Pojie,
to the rapacious Italian States that wanted t(» dismember their
Tuscan ni'ii^hbor, and to those miworthy citiz»'iis who sought
to i^ratify their private ambition in opposition tti the common
weal.
Not a shadow of y)olitical crime had been jiroved against
him. Not one stain had bi-cn detected on his ])rivate con-
duct : his fellow-monks, including one who had formerly been
h]fi secretary for several years, and who, with more than ih'
avera^re culture of his crnnjianions, had a disposition to criti-
cise Fra (iirolamo's rule as Prioi, bore testimony, even after
tlie shock of his j-etractatiou, to an unimpeachable purity and
consistency in his life, which had coinmandiMl (heir >msus-
pecting veneration. The l*ope himself had not been ab'e to
KOMOLA, , 507
raise a charge of liei'esy against the Frate, except on the
ground of disobedience to a mandate, and disregard of the
sentence of excominnnication. It was difficult to justify that
breach of discipline by argument, but there Avas a moral in-
surgence in the minds of grave men against the Court of
Rome, which tended to confound the theoretic distinction be-
tween the Church and churchmen, and to lighten the scandal
of disobedience.
Men of ordinary morality and public spirit felt the trt
umph of the Frate's enemies was really the triumph of gross
license. And keen Florentines like Soderini and Piero
Guicciardini, may well have had an angry smile on their
lips at a severity which dispensed with all law and order to
hang and burn a man in whom the seductions of a public ca-
reer had warped the strictness of his veracity ; may well have
remarked that if the Frate had mixed a much deeper fraud
-with a zeal and ability less incouA'cnient to high personages,
the fraud would have been regarded as an excellent oil for
ecclesiastical and political wheels.
Nevertheless such shrewd men were forced to admit that,
Iiowever poor a figure the Florentine government made in its
clumsy pretense of a judicial warrant for what had in fact
been pre-determined as an act of policy, the measures of the
Pope against Savonarola were necessary measures of self-de-
fense. Not to try and rid himself of a man Avho wanted to
stir up the PoAvers of Europe to summon a General Council
and depose him, would have been adding ineptitude to iniqui-
ty. There was no denying that towards Alexander the Sixth
Savonarola was a rebel, and, what was much more, a danger-
ous rebel. Florence had heard him say, and had well under-
stood what he meant, that he would not obey the devil. It
was inevitably a life and death struggle between the Frate
and the Pope ; but it was less inevitabte that Florence should
make itself the Pope's executioner.
Komola's ears were filled in this way with the suggestions
of a faith still ardent under its wounds, and the suggestions
of worldly discernment, judging things according t'cTa very
moderate standard of what is possible to human nature. She
could be satisfied with neither. She brought to her long
meditations over that printed document many painful ob-
servations, registered more or less consciously through the
years of her discipleship, which whispered a presentiment that
Savonarola's retractation of his prophetic claims was not mere-
ly a spasmodic effort to escape from torture. But, on the
other hand, her soul cried out for some explanation of his
lapses Avhich would make it still possible for her to believe
508 . KOMOLA.
tli;it the main striving of liis lift' liad been pure and gi'aiul. The
recent memory of the selfish discontent whicli had come over
her like a Idinhting wind along with the loss of her trust in
the man who had been for her an incariuitiou of the liighest
motives, had jtrciduced a reaction which is known to many as
a sort of faith that has sprung up to them out of the very
de])ths of their despair. It was im])ossible, she said now,
that the negative disbelieving thoughts which had made her
soul arid of all good could be founded in the truth of things:
impossible that it liad not l)een a living sj)irit, and no hollow
jiretense, which had once breathed in tlie Frate's words, and
kindled a new life in her. Whatever falsehood there had
been in iiim had been a fall and not a purpose ; a gradual en-
tanirlenu'iit in which ho struggled, not a contrivance encour-
aged by success.
Looking at the printed confessions, she saw many sentences
Avhich bore the stamp of bungling fabrication : they had that
emphasis and repetition in self-accusation which none but
very low hypocrites use to their fellow-men. J>ut the fact
that these sentences Vveic in striking o])position, not onl)'^ to
the character of Savonarola, but also to the general tone of
the confessions, strengthened the ini])ression that the rest of
the text rejjresented in the main what had really fallen from
Ins lips. Hardly a word was dishonorable to him except
what turned on his pro])hetic annunciations. He was unvary-
ing in his statcnienl of the ends he had i)ursned for Florence,
tlie Church, and the world ; and, apart front tlu- mixture of
falsity in that claim of special ins])iratioti by which he sought
to gain liold of men's minds, there was no admission oi" hav-
ing used unworthy means. Even in this confession, and
without expurgation of the notary's malign phrases, Fra Gi-
rolanio shone forth as a man who had sought his own glory
indeed, but sought it by laboring Ibr the very highest end —
tlie moral welfare of men — not by vague exhortations, but by
striving to turn beliefs into energies that would work in all
the details of life.
"Every thing that I have done," said one memorable pas-
sage, which n\ay perhaps have had its ei'asures and interpola-
tions, " I have done with the design of Ix-ing forever famous
in the pri-sent and future ages; and that I might win credit
in Florence ; and that notliing of great import should be
done without my sanction. And when I had thus established
my position in Florence, I liad it in my mind to do great
tilings in Italy and bcyon^ed
to hear it in the voice that rang tlirough the Duomo. It Avas
the habit of Savonarola's mind to conceive great things, and
to feel that he was the man to do them. Iniquity should be
brought loAV ; the cause of justice, purity, and love should
triumph ; and it should triumph by his voice, by his Avork, by
his blood. In moments of ecstatic contemplation, doubtless,
the sense of self melted in the sense of the unspeakable, and
in that part of his experience lay the elements of genuine self-
abasement; but in the presence of his fellow-men for whom
lie Avas to act, pre-eminence seemed a necessary condition of
his life.
And perha<{3s this confession, CA'cn when it described a
doubleness that was conscious and deliberate, really implied
no more than that AvaA'ering of belief concerning his own im-
pressions and motives which most human beings Avho have
not a stupid inflexibility of self-confidence must be liable to
under a marked change of external conditions. In a life
Avhere the experience Avas so tumultuously mixed as it must
have been in the Prate's, Avhat a possibility Avas opened for
a change of self-judgment, Avhen, instead of eyes that A'en-
erated and knees that knelt, instead of a great Avork on its
way to accomplishment, and in its prosperity stamping the
agent as a chosen instrument, there came the hooting, and
the spitting, and the curses of the crowd ; and then the
hard faces of enemies made judges; and then the horrible
torture, and Avith the torture the irrepressible cry, " It is true,
what you Avould haA^e me say : let me go: do not torture me
again : yes, yes, I am guilty. Thy stroke has reached me !"
As Romola thought of the anguish that must have follow-
ed the confession — Avhether, in the subsequent solitude of
610 UOMOLA.
tlu i)ri«or), conscience retracted or confirmed the self-taxing
wonls — that an<,niisli seemed to be pressinj; on her own lieart
;uid uiuMnLT the sh)\v, l)itter te:u"s. Every vulirar, sell-iLTnorant
person in hMorenee was i^lihly pronouncing on this man's de-
merits, and he was knowing a depth of sorrow wiiich can
only be known to the soul that has loved and sou<;ht the
most ))errect thing, and beholds itself falk-n.
She had not then seen — what she saw afterwards — the evi-
dence of the Frate's mental state after he had thus to lay his
mouth ill the dust. As the days went by, the reports of'new
unpul)lislied examinations, eliciting no change of confessions,
cwised ; Savonarola was left alone in his ))rison and allowed
pen and ink for a while, that, if he liked, he might use his
poor bruised and strained right arm to write with, lie
wrote; but what he wrote was no vindication of his inno-
cence, no protest against the proceedings used towards him:
it "was a continued collo(|uy with that ut there
■was no grove of fuel as before : instead of that, there was oii'j
great lieap of fuel ])laced on the circular ai-ea ■which made
tlie termination of the long narrow i>latform. And above this
lieaj) of fuel rose a gibbet with three halters on it — a gibbet
Avhich, having two arms, still looked so much like a cross as
to make some beholders uncomfortable, though one arm had
been truncated to avoid the resemblance.
On the marbk' terrace of the l*alazzo were three ti '.bunals :
one near the door ibr the l>isho]>, who was to ])er(brm the
ceremony of degradation of Fra (iirolamoand the two brethren
who were to suffer as his followers and accomplices ; another
for the Pa])al Commissaries, who were to ])ronounce them
heretics and schismatics, and deliver them over to the secular
arm ; and a third, close to Marzocco, at the cornei* of the ter-
race where the jilatform began, for the (ionfaloniere, and the
Eight who were to pi-onounce the sentence of death.
Again the piazza was thronged Avith expectant fiiccs :
again there was to be a great liie kindled. In the majority
of the crowd that ]>ressed around the gibbet the expectation
was that of ferocious hati-ed, or of mere hard curiosity to be-
hold a l)arbarous sight. ]3ut there were still many specta-
tors on the wide ])avement, on the roofs, and at the windows,
who, in the midst of their bitter giief and their own endur-
ance of insult as liypocritical Piagnoni, were not without a
lingering hope, even at this eleventh liour, that God would
interpose, by some sign, to manifest their ])eloved proi>het as
Ills servant. And there were yet more who looked forward
•with trembling eagerness, as Komola did, to that final mo-
ment when Savonarola inight say, "Oh people, I was inno-
cent of deceit."
Komola was at a window on the north side of the ])iazza,
far away from the marble terrace where the tribunals stood;
and near liei-, also looking on in jtainful doubt concerning the
EOMOLA. 513
man avIio had won Ids early reverence, was a. young Floren-
tine of two-and-twenty, named Jacopo Xardi, afterwards to
deserve honor as one of tlie very few who, feeling Fra Giro-
lamo's emhieuce, have written about him with tlie simple de-
sire to be veracious. He had said to Romola, Avitli. respect-
ful gentleness, when he saw the struggle in her between
her shuddering horror of the scene and her yearning to wit-
ness what might happen in the last moment,
" Madonna, there is no need for you to look at these cruel
things. I will tell you when he comes out of the Palazzo.
Trust to me ; I know what you would see."
^Romola covered her face, but the hootings that seemed to
maTce the hideous scene still visible could not be shut out.
At last her arm was touched, and she heard the words, " He
comes." She looked tow^ards the Palace, and could see Savo-
narola led out in his Dominican garb ; could see him stand-
ing before the Bishop, and being stripped of the black man-
tle, the white scapulary and long Avhite tunic, till he stood in
a close woollen under-tunic, that told of no sacred office, no
rank. He had been degraded, and cut ofi' from the Church
Militant.
The baser part of the multitude delight in degradations,
apart from any hatred ; it is the satire they best understand.
There was a fresh hoot of triumph as the three degraded
brethren passed on to the tribunal of the Papal Commissa-
ries, who Avere to pronounce them schismatics and heretics.
Did not the prophet look like a schismatic and heretic now ?
It is easy to believe in the damnable state of a man who
stands stripped and degraded.
Then the tliird tribunal was passed — that of the Floren-
tine officials who were to ]u-onounce sentence, and among
whom, even at her distance, Romola couid discern the odious
figure of Dolfo Spiui, indued in the grave black lucco, as one
of the Eight.
Then the three figures, in their close white raiment, trod
their way along the platform, amidst yells and grating tones
of insult.
" Cover your eyes, madonna," said Jacopo Xardi ; " Fra
Girolamo will be the last."
It was not long before she had to uncover them asxain.
Savonarola was there. He was not far off her now. He had
mounted the steps ; she could see him look round on the mul-
titude.
But in the same moment expectation died, and she only
saw Avhat he was seeing — torches waving to kindle the fuel
beneath his dead body, fiices glaring with a yet worse light ^
22*
514 ROMOLA.
pile only licard what he was hearing— gross jests, taunts, and
curses.
Tlie inoincnt was ]iasl. IK-r foce was covered again, and
Khe only knew that Savonarola's voice had passed into eter-
nal isilencc.
EPILOGUE.
On the evening of the twenty-second of May, 1509, five
persons, of whose history we have known something, were seat-
ed in a handsotne upper rooju ojieniug on to a loggia which,
at its right-hand corner, looked all along the Borgo I'inti, ar.d
over the city gate towards Fiesole, and the soleuni heights
bevou-l it.
'At one end of the room Avas an arch-way opening into a
narrow iinier room, hardly more than a recess, where the light
fell from above on a small altar covered with fair white linen.
Over the altar was a picture, discernihlc at tlie distance where
the little party sat only as the small full-length portrait of a
Dominican Brother. For it was shaded from the light above
by overhanging branches and wreaths of flowers, and the fresh
tajK'rs below were unlit. But it seemed that the decoration
of the altar and its recess was not complete. For i)art of the
floor was strewn with a confusion of flowers and green boughs,
and among them sat a delicate blue-eyed girl of thirteen, toss-
ing her long light-brown hair out of her eyes, as she made
screctious for tiie wreaths she was weaving, or looked up at
her mother's work in the same kind, and told her how to do
it with a little air of instruction.
For that nu)ther was not very clever at weaving flowers
or at anv other work. Tessa's fingers had not become more
idroit with the years — only very much fatter. She got on
plowlv, and turned her head about a good deal, and asked
Nimia's opinion with much deference ; for Tessa never ceased
to be astonished at the wisdom of her children. She still wore
her contadina gown: it was only broader than the old one;
and there was the silver i)in in "her rough curly brown hair,
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