e of the munificent Romans, for an
everlasting possession to my fellow-citizens. But why do I say Florence
only? If Florence remembers me, will not the world remember me? ...
Yet," added Bardo, after a short pause, his voice falling again into a
saddened key, "Lorenzo's untimely death has raised a new difficulty. I
had his promise--I should have had his bond--that my collection should
always bear my name and should never be sold, though the harpies might
clutch everything else; but there is enough for them--there is more than
enough--and for thee, too, Romola, there will be enough. Besides, thou
wilt marry; Bernardo reproaches me that I do not seek a fitting
_parentado_ for thee, and we will delay no longer, we will think about
it."

"No, no, father; what could you do? besides, it is useless: wait till
some one seeks me," said Romola, hastily.

"Nay, my child, that is not the paternal duty. It was not so held by
the ancients, and in this respect Florentines have not degenerated from
their ancestral customs."

"But I will study diligently," said Romola, her eyes dilating with
anxiety. "I will become as learned as Cassandra Fedele: I will try and
be as useful to you as if I had been a boy, and then perhaps some great
scholar will want to marry me, and will not mind about a dowry; and he
will like to come and live with you, and he will be to you in place of
my brother... and you will not be sorry that I was a daughter."

There was a rising sob in Romola's voice as she said the last words,
which touched the fatherly fibre in Bardo. He stretched his hand upward
a little in search of her golden hair, and as she placed her head under
his hand, he gently stroked it, leaning towards her as if his eyes
discerned some glimmer there.

"Nay, Romola mia, I said not so; if I have pronounced an anathema on a
degenerate and ungrateful son, I said not that I could wish thee other
than the sweet daughter thou hast been to me. For what son could have
tended me so gently in the frequent sickness I have had of late? And
even in learning thou art not, according to thy measure, contemptible.
Something perhaps were to be wished in thy capacity of attention and
memory, not incompatible even with the feminine mind. But as Calcondila
bore testimony, when he aided me to teach thee, thou hast a ready
apprehension, and even a wide-glancing intelligence. And thou hast a
man's nobility of soul: thou hast never fretted me with thy petty