the skirts of the black
mantles pass by her. The encounter had made her heart beat
disagreeably, for Romola had an uneasiness in her religious disguise, a
shame at this studied concealment, which was made more distinct by a
special effort to appear unconscious under actual glances.

But the black skirts would be gone the faster because they were going
down-hill; and seeing a great flat stone against a cypress that rose
from a projecting green bank, she yielded to the desire which the slight
shock had given her, to sit down and rest.

She turned her back on Florence, not meaning to look at it till the
monks were quite out of sight, and raising the edge of her cowl again
when she had seated herself, she discerned Maso and the mules at a
distance where it was not hopeless for her to overtake them, as the old
man would probably linger in expectation of her.

Meanwhile she might pause a little. She was free and alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

THE BLACK MARKS BECOME MAGICAL.

That journey of Tito's to Rome, which had removed many difficulties from
Romola's departure, had been resolved on quite suddenly, at a supper,
only the evening before.

Tito had set out towards that supper with agreeable expectations. The
meats were likely to be delicate, the wines choice, the company
distinguished; for the place of entertainment was the Selva or Orto de'
Rucellai, or, as we should say, the Rucellai Gardens; and the host,
Bernardo Rucellai, was quite a typical Florentine grandee. Even his
family name has a significance which is prettily symbolic: properly
understood, it may bring before us a little lichen, popularly named
_orcella_ or _roccella_, which grows on the rocks of Greek isles and in
the Canaries; and having drunk a great deal of light into its little
stems and button-heads, will, under certain circumstances, give it out
again as a reddish purple dye, very grateful to the eyes of men. By
bringing the excellent secret of this dye, called _oricello_, from the
Levant to Florence, a certain merchant, who lived nearly a hundred years
before our Bernardo's time, won for himself and his descendants much
wealth, and the pleasantly-suggestive surname of Oricellari, or
Roccellari, which on Tuscan tongues speedily became Rucellai.

And our Bernardo, who stands out more prominently than the rest on this
purple background, had added all sorts of distinction to the family
name: he had married the sister of Lorenzo de' Medici,