artled by
unexpectedly meeting her husband, who was coming to seek her.

His step was elastic, and there was a radiance of satisfaction about him
not quite usual.

"What! the noise was a little too much for you?" he said; for Romola, as
she started at the sight of him, had pressed her hands all the closer
against her ears. He took her gently by the wrist, and drew her arm
within his, leading her into the saloon surrounded with the dancing
nymphs and fauns, and then went on speaking: "Florence is gone quite mad
at getting its Great Council, which is to put an end to all the evils
under the sun; especially to the vice of merriment. You may well look
stunned, my Romola, and you are cold. You must not stay so late under
that windy loggia without wrappings. I was coming to tell you that I am
suddenly called to Rome about some learned business for Bernardo
Rucellai. I am going away immediately, for I am to join my party at San
Gaggio to-night, that we may start early in the morning. I need give
you no trouble; I have had my packages made already. It will not be
very long before I am back again."

He knew he had nothing to expect from her but quiet endurance of what he
said and did. He could not even venture to kiss her brow this evening,
but just pressed her hand to his lips, and left her. Tito felt that
Romola was a more unforgiving woman than he had imagined; her love was
not that sweet clinging instinct, stronger than all judgments, which, he
began to see now, made the great charm of a wife. Still, this petrified
coldness was better than a passionate, futile opposition. Her pride and
capability of seeing where resistance was useless had the inconvenience.

But when the door had closed on Tito, Romola lost the look of cold
immobility winch came over her like an inevitable frost whenever he
approached her. Inwardly she was very far from being in a state of
quiet endurance, and the days that had passed since the scene which had
divided her from Tito had been days of active planning and preparation
for the fulfilment of a purpose.

The first thing she did now was to call old Maso to her.

"Maso," she said, in a decided tone, "we take our journey to-morrow
morning. We shall be able now to overtake that first convoy of cloth,
while they are waiting at San Piero. See about the two mules to-night,
and be ready to set off with them at break of day, and wait for me at
Trespiano."

She meant to take Maso with he