he long train of
companies and symbols, which have their silent music and stir the mind
as a chorus stirs it, was passing out of sight, and now a faint yearning
hope was all that struggled with the accustomed despondency.

Romola, whose heart had been swelling, half with foreboding, half with
that enthusiasm of fellowship which the life of the last two years had
made as habitual to her as the consciousness of costume to a vain and
idle woman, gave a deep sigh, as at the end of some long mental tension,
and remained on her knees for very languor; when suddenly there flashed
from between the houses on to the distant bridge something
bright-coloured. In the instant, Romola started up and stretched out
her arms, leaning from the window, while the black drapery fell from her
head, and the golden gleam of her hair and the flush in her face seemed
the effect of one illumination. A shout arose in the same instant; the
last troops of the procession paused, and all faces were turned towards
the distant bridge.

But the bridge was passed now: the horseman was pressing at full gallop
along by the Arno; the sides of his bay horse, just streaked with foam,
looked all white from swiftness; his cap was flying loose by his red
becchetto, and he waved an olive-branch in his hand. It was a
messenger--a messenger of good tidings! The blessed olive-branch spoke
afar off. But the impatient people could not wait. They rushed to meet
the on-comer, and seized his horse's rein, pushing and trampling.

And now Romola could see that the horseman was her husband, who had been
sent to Pisa a few days before on a private embassy. The recognition
brought no new flash of joy into her eyes. She had checked her first
impulsive attitude of expectation; but her governing anxiety was still
to know what news of relief had come for Florence.

"Good news!"

"Best news!"

"News to be paid with hose!" (_novelle da calze_) were the vague
answers with which Tito met the importunities of the crowd, until he had
succeeded in pushing on his horse to the spot at the meeting of the ways
where the Gonfaloniere and the Priors were awaiting him. There he
paused, and, bowing low, said--

"Magnificent Signori! I have to deliver to you the joyful news that the
galleys from France, laden with corn and men, have arrived safely in the
port of Leghorn, by favour of a strong wind, which kept the enemy's
fleet at a distance."

The words had no sooner left Tito