"Ah," he said, inwardly, "that doubtless is the reason she has taken to
listening to Fra Girolamo, and going amongst the Piagnoni, which I never
expected from her. These women, if they are not happy, and have no
children, must either take to folly or to some overstrained religion
that makes them think they've got all heaven's work on their shoulders.
And as for my poor child Romola, it is as I always said--the cramming
with Latin and Greek has left her as much a woman as if she had done
nothing all day but prick her fingers with the needle. And this husband
of hers, who gets employed everywhere, because he's a tool with a smooth
handle, I wish Tornabuoni and the rest may not find their fingers cut.
Well, well, _solco torto, sacco dritto_--many a full sack comes from a
crooked furrow; and he who will be captain of none but honest men will
have small hire to pay."

With this long-established conviction that there could be no moral
sifting of political agents, the old Florentine abstained from all
interference in Tito's disfavour. Apart from what must be kept sacred
and private for Romola's sake, Bernardo had nothing direct to allege
against the useful Greek, except that he was a Greek, and that he,
Bernardo, did not like him; for the doubleness of feigning attachment to
the popular government, while at heart a Medicean, was common to Tito
with more than half the Medicean party. He only feigned with more skill
than the rest: that was all. So Bernardo was simply cold to Tito, who
returned the coldness with a scrupulous, distant respect. And it was
still the notion in Florence that the old tie between Bernardo and Bardo
made any service done to Romola's husband an acceptable homage to her
godfather.

After delivering himself of his charge at the Old Palace, Tito felt that
the avowed official work of the day was done. He was tired and adust
with long riding; but he did not go home. There were certain things in
his scarsella and on his mind, from which he wished to free himself as
soon as possible, but the opportunities must be found so skilfully that
they must not seem to be sought. He walked from the Palazzo in a
sauntering fashion towards the Piazza del Duomo. The procession was at
an end now, but the bells were still ringing, and the people were moving
about the streets restlessly, longing for some more definite vent to
their joy. If the Frate could have stood up in the great Piazza and
preached to them, they m