forbore to speak further on so painful a topic; he discoursed
freely upon his own studies, his past hopes, and the one great ambition
that remained to him--that his library and his magnificent collection of
treasures should not be dissipated on his death, but should become the
property of the public, and be honourably housed in Florence for all
time, with his name over the door.

In his eagerness he made passing reference to his son, of how Romola had
been filling his place to the best of her power, and plainly hinted--and
Tito was not slow to profit by the opportunity--that if he could have
the young Greek scholar to work with him instead of her, he might yet
look to fulfill some of the notable designs he had abandoned when his
blindness came upon him.

"But," he resumed, in his original tone of condescension, "we are
departing from what I believe is your most important business. Nello
informed me that you had certain gems which you would fain dispose of."

"I have one or two intagli of much beauty," said Tito. "But they are now
in the keeping of Messer Domenico Cennini, who has a strong and safe
place for such things. He estimates them as worth at least five hundred
ducats."

"Ah, then, they are fine intagli!" said Bardo. "Five hundred ducats! Ah,
more than a man's ransom!"

Tito gave a slight, almost imperceptible start, and opened his long,
dark eyes with questioning surprise at Bardo's blind face, as if his
words--a mere phrase of common parlance at a time when men were often
being ransomed from slavery or imprisonment--had some special meaning
for him.

But Bardo had used the words in all innocence, and went on to talk of
superstitions that attached to certain gems, and to undertake that he
would use his influence with the Secretary of the Republic in Tito's
behalf. Both Romola and her father were attracted by the charm and
freshness and apparent simplicity of the young man; but just as he was
making ready to depart they were interrupted by the entrance of Bernardo
del Nero, one of the chief citizens of Florence, Bardo's oldest friend,
and Romola's godfather; and Bernardo felt an instant, instinctive
distrust of the handsome, ingratiating stranger, and did not hesitate to
say so after Tito had left them.

"Remember, Bardo," he said at length, "thou hast a rare gem of thy own;
take care no one gets it who is not like to pay a worthy price. That
pretty Greek has a sleekness about him that seems marvelously