y," she said, in a cheerful tone. "Has
all gone off well?"

"Excellently well. First of all, the rain came and put an end to Luca
Corsini's oration, which 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 honour of giving
the Cristianissimo the briefest possible welcome in bad French."

"Tito, it was you, I know," said Romola, smiling brightly, and kissing
him. "How is it you never care about claiming anything? And after
that?"

"Oh! after that, there was a shower of armour and jewels, and trappings,
such as you saw at the last Florentine _giostra_, only a great deal more
of them. There was strutting, and prancing, and confusion, and
scrambling, and the people shouted, and the Cristianissimo smiled from
ear to ear. And after that there was a great deal of flattery, and
eating, and play. I was at Tornabuoni's. I will tell you about it
to-morrow."

"Yes, dearest, never mind now. But is there any more hope that things
will end peaceably for Florence, that the Republic will not get into
fresh troubles?"

Tito gave a shrug. "Florence will have no peace but what it pays well
for; that is clear."

Romola's face saddened, but she checked herself, and said, cheerfully,
"You would not guess where I went to-day, Tito. I went to the Duomo, to
hear Fra Girolamo."

Tito looked startled; he had immediately thought of Baldassarre's
entrance into the Duomo; but Romola gave his look another meaning.

"You are surprised, are you not? It was a sudden thought. I want to
know all about the public affairs now, and I determined to hear for
myself what the Frate promised the people about this French invasion."

"Well, and what did you think of the prophet?"

"He certainly has a very mysterious power, that man. A great deal of
his sermon was what I expected; but once I was strangely moved--I sobbed
with the rest."

"Take care, Romola," said Tito, playfully, feeling relieved that she had
said nothing about Baldassarre; "you have a touch of fanaticism in you.
I shall have you seeing visions, like your brother."

"No; it was the same with every one else. He carried them all with him;
unless it were that gross Dolfo Spini, whom I saw there making grimaces.
There was even a wretched-looking man, with a rope round his neck--an
escaped prisoner, I should think, who had run in for shelter--a very
wild-eyed