im, touched with keen joy that
he felt so strongly whatever she felt. But without 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 muffle
herself as she will, every one wants to see what there is under her
veil, for she has that way of walking like a procession. Not that I
find fault with her for it, only it doesn't suit my steps. And, indeed,
I would rather not have us seen going to San Marco, and that's why I am
dressed as if I were one of the Piagnoni themselves, and as old as Sant'
Anna; for if it had been anybody but poor Dino, who ought to be forgiven
if he's dying, 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 Romola's hand to his lips, and said, "I understand, I obey
you," now turned away, lifting his cap--a sign of reverence rarely made
at that time by native Florentines, and which excited Bernardo del
Nero's contempt for Tito as a fawning Greek, while to Romola, who loved
homage, it gave him an exceptional grace.

He was half glad of the dismissal, half disposed to cling to Romola to
the last moment in which she would love him without suspicion. For it
seemed to him certain that this brother would before all things want to
know, and that Romola would before all things confide to him, what was
her father's position 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 up the place left
vacant long ago by a wandering son. He foresaw the impulse that would
prompt Romola 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 Bernardo del
Nero, who would be delighted at seeing confirmed the wisdom of his
advice about deferring the betrothal until Tito's character and position
had been established by a longer residence; and the history of the young
Greek professo