 Chapter 39 of Ramola. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Ramola by George Elliot. Chapter 39. A Supper in the Ruselli Gardens. On entering the Hanson Pavilion, Titto's quick glance soon discerned in the selection of the guests the confirmation of his conjecture that the object of the gathering was political, though perhaps nothing more distinct than that strengthening of party which comes from good fellowship. Good dishes and good wine were at that time believed to heighten the consciousness of political preferences, and in the inspired ease of After Supper talk, it was supposed that people ascertained their own opinions with a clearness quite inaccessible to uninvited stomachs. The fluorescent teams were a sober and frugal people, but wherever men had gathered wealth, Madonna della Gozaviglia and San Bionvino have had their worshippers, and the Ruselli were among the few Florentine families who kept a great table and lived splendidly. It was not probable that on this evening there would be any attempt to apply high philosophic theories, and there could be no objection to the burst of plateau looking on, or even to the modest presence of the cardinal virtues in fresco on the walls. That burst of plateau had been long used to look down on conviviality of a more transcendental sort, for it had been brought from Lorenzo's villa after his death, when the meetings of the Platonic Academy had been transferred to these gardens. Especially on every 13th of November, reputed anniversary of Plateau's death, it had looked down from underloreal leaves on a picked company of scholars and philosophers, who met to eat and drink with moderation, and to discuss and admire, perhaps with less moderation, the doctrines of the great master. On Piccadela Miranda, once a quintoxic young genius with long curls, astonished at his own powers and astonishing reign with heterodox, these afterwards a more humbling student with a consuming passion for inward perfection, having come to find the universe more astonishing than his own cleverness. On innocent, laborious Marsilio Fischino, picked out young to be reared as a Platonic philosopher, and fed on Platonism in all its stages, till his mind was perhaps a little polyp, from that to exclusive diet. On Angelino Polincino, chief literary genius of that age, a born poet and a scholar without dullness, whose phrases had blood in them and are alive still, or further back, on Leon Battista Albaritti, a reverend senior when those three were young, and of a much grander type than they, a robust universal mind, at once practical and theoretic artist. Man of science, inventor, poet, and on many more valiant workers whose names are not registered, where every day we turn the leaf to read them, but those laborers make a part, though an unrecognised part, of our inheritance, like the ploughing and soaring of past generations. Bernardo Rusali was a man to hold a distinguished place in that academy, even before he became his host and patron. He was still in the prime of life, and more than four-and-forty, with a somewhat haughty, cautiously dignified presence, conscious of an amazingly pure latinity, but, says Erasmus, not to be caught speaking Latin, no word of Latin to be shared of him by the sharpest of two-tons. He welcomed Tito with more marked favour than usual, and gave him a place between Lorenzo Tornabbuni and Guianzo Piccini, both of them accomplished young members of the Macedian party. Of course, the talk was the lightest in the world while the brass ball filled with scented water was passing round, that the company might wash their hands and rings flashed on white fingers under the wax lights, and there was the pleasant fragrance of fresh white damask newly come from France. The tone of remark was a very common one in those times. Someone asked what Dante's pattern Old Florentine would think if the life could come into him again under his leather belt and bone clasp, and he could see silver forks on the table, and it was agreed on all hands that the habits of posterity would be very surprising to ancestors, if ancestors could only know them. And while the silver forks were just dallying with appetising delicacies, that introduced the more serious business of the supper, such as morsels of liver cooked to that exquisite point that they would melt in the mouth, there was time to admire the designs on the enameled silver centres of the brass service, and to say something, as usual, about the silver dish for confetti, the masterpiece of Antonin Poladulio, whom patronising popes had seduced from his native Florence to more gorgeous Rome. Ah, I remember, said Nicolae Rodolfi, a middle-aged man, with that negligent ease of manner which, seeming to claim nothing, is really based on the lifelong consciousness of commanding rank. I remember our Antoninio getting bitter about his chiselling and enameling of these metal things and taking in a fury to painting, because, said he, the artist who puts his work into gold and silver puts his brains into the melting pot. And that is not unlikely to be a true foreboding of Antonios, said Gianzio Pucci. If this pretty war with Pusia goes on, and the revolt only spreads a little to our other towns, it is not only our silver dishes that are likely to go. I doubt whether Antonios' silver saints from the altar of San Givoni will not some day vanish from the eyes of the faithful to be worshipped more devoutly in the form of coin. The freight is preparing us for that already, said Tornabuni. He is telling the people that God will not have silver crucifixes and starving stomachs, and that the church is best adorned with the gems of holiness and the fine gold of brotherly love. A very useful doctrine of war finance, as many a condotea has found, said Bernardo Ruselli, dryly. But politics come on after the confetti Lorenzo, when we can drink wine enough to wash them down, they are too solid to be taken with roast and boiled. Yes indeed, said Nicolo Ridolfi, our Luigi Pucci would have said this delicate boiled kid must be eaten with an impartial mind. I remember one day at Caraghi, when Luigi was in his rattling vein, he was maintaining that nothing perverted the palates like Opinion. Opinion, said he, corrupt the saliva, that's why men took to pepper. Skepticism is the only philosophy that doesn't bring a taste in the mouth. Nay, says Paul Lorenzo Di Michini. You must be out there Luigi. Here is this untainted skeptic, Mato Franco, who wants hotter sauce than any of us. Because he has a strong opinion of himself, flashes out Luigi, which is the original egg of all other Opinion. He, a skeptic, he believes in the immortality of his own verses. He is such a logician as that preaching friar who described the pavement of the bottomless pit. Paul Luigi, his mind was like sharp as steel that can touch nothing without cutting. And yet a very gentle-hearted creature, said Gianzo Pucci. It seemed to me his talk was a mere blowing of soap bubbles, what ditherams he went into about eating and drinking, and yet he was as temperate as a butterfly. The light talk and the solid eatables were not soon at an end, for after the roast and boiled meats came the indispensable capoon and game, and crowning glory of a well-spread table a peacock cooked according to the recipe of Apicus for cooking partridges, namely with the feathers on, but not plucked afterwards, as that great authority ordered concerning his partridges. On the contrary, so disposed on the dish that it might look as much as possible like a live peacock taking its unboiled repose, great was the skill required in that confidential servant who was the official carver respectfully to turn the classical though inspired bird on its back and expose the plucked breast from which he was to dispense a delicate slice to each of the honourable company, unless anyone should be of so independent a mind as to decline that expensive toughness and prefer the vulgar digestibility of Capone. Hardly anyone was so bold. Tito quoted Horace and dispersed his slice in small particles over his plate. Bernardo Ruselli made a learned observation about the ancient price of peacock's eggs but did not pretend to eat his slice, and Nacello Ridolfi held a mouthful on his fork while he told a favourite story of Luigi Polchis about a man of Siena who, wanting to give a splendid entertainment at moderate expense, brought a wild goose, cut off its beak and webbed feet and boiled it in its feathers to pass for a pea hen. In fact, very little peacock was eaten, but there was the satisfaction of sitting at a table where peacock was served up in a remarkable manner and of knowing that such caprices were not within reach of any but those who subbed with the very wealthiest men. And it would have been rashness to speak slightly of peacock's flesh or any other venerable institution at a time when Fragrulomo was teaching the disturbing doctrine that it was not the duty of the rich to be luxurious for the sake of the poor. Meanwhile in the chill obscurity that surrounded this centre of warmth and light and savoury odours, the lonely disowned man was walking in gradually narrowing circuits. He paused among the trees and looked in at the windows, which made brilliant pictures against the gloom. He could hear the laughter, he could see Tito gesticulating with careless grace and hear his voice, now alone, now mingling in the merry confusion of interlacing speeches. Balutasur's mind was highly strung. He was preparing himself for the moment when he could win his entrance into this brilliant company and he had a savage satisfaction in the sight of Tito's easy gaiety which seemed to be preparing the unconscious victim for more effective torture. But the men seated among the branching tapers and the flashing cups could know nothing of the pale fierce face that watched them from without. The light can be a curtain as well as the darkness. And the talk went on with more eagerness as it became less disconnected and trivial. The sense of citizenship was just then strongly forced even on the most indifferent minds. What the overmastering Fragrilamo was saying and prompting was really uppermost in the thoughts of everyone at the table. And before the stewed fish was removed and while the favourite sweets were yet to come, his name rose to the surface of the conversation and in spite of Rukeli's previous prohibition, the talk again became political. At first, while the servants remained present, it was mere gossip what had been done in the plazo on the first days voting for the Great Council how hot-tempered and domineering Francesco Balori was, as if he were to have everything his own way by right of his astir virtue and how it was clear to everybody who heard Sodorini's speeches in favour of the Great Council and also heard the Fathe's sermons that they were both needed in the same trough. My opinion is, said Nicole Rodolfi, that the Fathe has a longer head for public matters than Sodorini or any pregnon among them. You may depend on it that Sodorini is his mouthpiece more than he is Sodorini's. No, Nicolo, there I differ from you, said Bernardo Rukeli. The Fathe has an acute mind and readily sees what will serve his own ends, but it is not likely that Pagolantino Sodorini, who has had long experience of affairs and has specially studied the permission council, should be much indebted to a monk for ideas on that subject. No, no, Sodorini loads the cannon, though I grant you, Fragrilomo, brings the powder and lights the match. He is master of the people and the people are getting master of us, echo? Well, said Lorenzo Tornabuni, presently, when the room was clear of servants and nothing but wine was passing round, whether Sodorini is indebted or not, we are indebted to the Fathe for the general amnesty which has gone along with the scheme of the council. We might have done without the fear of God and the reform of morals being passed by a majority of black beings, but that excellent proposition that our modician heads should be allowed to remain comfortably on our shoulders and that we should not be obliged to hand over our property in finesse has my warm approval and it is my belief that nothing but the Fathe's predominance could have procured that for us, and you may rely on it, but Fragrilomo is as firm as a rock on that point of promoting peace. I have had an interview with him. There was a murmur of surprise and curiosity at the further end of the table, but Bernardo Michelli simply nodded as if he knew what Tornabuni had to say and wished him to go on. Yes, proceeded Tornabuni. I have been favoured with an interview in the Fathe's own cell which, let me tell you, is not a common favour, for I have reason to believe that even Francesca Flori very seldom sees him in private. However, I think he saw me the more willingly because I was not a ready-made follower but had to be converted and for my part I see clearly enough that the only safe and wise policy for us magicians to pursue is to throw our strength into the scale of the Fathe's party. We are not strong enough to make head on our own behalf and if the Fathe and the popular party were upset everyone who hears me knows perfectly well what other party would be uppermost just now. Noli, Arbate, Pase and the rest, Arbate as somebody christened them the other day who instead of giving us an amnesty would be inclined to fly at our folks like mad dogs and not be satisfied till they had banished half of us. There were strong interjections of ascent to this last sentence of Tobonnes as he paused and looked round a moment. A wise dissimulation, he went on, is the only cause for moderate rational men in times of violent party feeling. I need hardly tell this company what are my real political attachments. I am not the only man here who has strong personal ties to the banished family but apart from any such ties I agree with my more experienced friends who are allowing me to speak for them in their presence that the only lasting and peaceful state of things for Florence is the predominance of some single family interest. This theory of the fatays that we are to have a popular government in which every man is to strive only for the general good and no-no party names is a theory that may do for some earl of Christopho Colombo's finding but will never do for our fine old choralism for Florence. A change must come before long and with patience and caution we have every chance of determining the change in our favour. Meanwhile the best thing we can do will be to keep the fatays flag flying for if any other were to be hoisted just now it would be a black flag for us. It is true said Nicole Rodolfi in a curt decisive way. What you say is true Lorenzo for my own part I am too old for anybody to believe that I've changed my feathers and there are certain of us our old Bernardo Dalnoro for one whom you would never persuade to borrow another man's shield but we can lie still like sleepy old dogs and it's clear enough that barking would be of no use just now. As for this song singing party who vote for nothing but the glory of God and want to make believe we can all love each other and talk as if vice could be swept out with a bosom by the magnificence of eight that they will not be a long one. After all the talk of scholars there are but two sorts of government one where men show their teeth at each other and one where men show their tongues and lick the feet of the strongest. They'll get their great council finally voted tomorrow that's certain enough and they'll think they found out a new plan of government but as sure as there's a human skin under every new show in the council the new plan will end like every other in snarling or in licking that's my view of things as a plain man not that I consider it becoming a man of family and following who have got others depending on their constancy and on sticking to their colours I go a hunting with a fine net to catch reasons in the air like doctors of law I say frankly that as the head of my family I shall be true to my old alliances and I have never yet seen any chalk mark on political reasons to tell me which is true and which is false my friend Bernardo Ruselli here is a man of reason I know and I have no objection to anybody's finding find spun reason for me so that they don't interfere with my actions as a man of family who has faith to keep with his connections if that is an appeal to me Niccolò said Bernardo Ruselli with a formal dignity in amusing contrast with Rodolfi's curt and pithy ease I may take this opportunity of saying that while my wishes are partly determined by long-standing personal relations I cannot enter into any positive schemes with persons over whose actions I have no control I myself might be content with a restoration of the old order of things but with modifications with important modifications and the one point on which I wish to declare my concurrence with Lorenzo Tornabuni is that the best policy to be pursued by our friends is to throw the weight of their interest into the scale of the popular party for myself I condescend to no dissimulation nor do I at present see the party or the scheme that commands my full assent in all alike there is crudity and confusion of ideas and of all the twenty men who are my colleagues in the present crisis there is not one with whom I do not find myself in wide disagreement Niccolò Rodolfi shrugged his shoulders and left it to someone else to take up the ball as the wine went round the talk became more and more frank and lively and the desire of several at once to be the chief speaker as usual caused the company to break up into small knots of two and three it was a result which had been foreseen by Lorenzo Tornabuni and Gianzo Puccini and they were among the first to turn aside from the high road of general talk and enter into a special conversation with Tito who sat between them gradually pushing away their seats and turning their backs on the table and wine in truth Melimer Tornabuni was saying at this stage laying one hose-clad leg across the knee of the other and caressing his ankle I know of no man in Florence who can serve our party better than you you see what most of our friends are men who can no more hide their prejudices than a dog can hide the natural tone of his bark or eek men whose political ties are so notorious that they must always be objects of suspicion Gianzo here and I, I flatter myself, are able to overcome that suspicion we have that power of concealment and finesse without which a rational, cultivated man instead of having any prerogative is really at a disadvantage compared with a wild ball or a savage but except yourself I know of no one else on whom we could rely for the necessary discretion yes said Gianzo Puccini laying his hand on Tito's shoulder the fact is Tito and why you can help us better than if you were Lules himself for I am convinced that Lules often made himself disagreeable to manage men one ought to have a sharp mind in a vow of its chief and there is not a soul in Florence who could undertake a business like this journey to Rome for example with the same safety than you can there is your scholarship which may always be a pretext for such journeys and what is better there is your talent which it would be harder to match than your scholarship Niccolo Machiavelli might have done for us if he had been on our side but hardly so well he is too much bitten with motions and has not your power of fascination all of the worse for him he has lost a great chance in life and you have got it yes said Tornebroni lowering his voice in a significant manner you have only to play your game well Melma and the future belongs to you for the medici you may rely upon it will keep a foot in Rome as well as in Florence and time may not be far off when they will be able to make a finer career for their adherence even than they did in old days why shouldn't you take orders some day there's a cardinals hat at the end of that road and you would not be the first Greek who has worn that ornament Tito laughed gaily he was too acute not to measure Tornebroni's exaggerated flattery but still the flattery had a pleasant flavour my joints are not so stiff yet he said that I can't be induced to run without such a high price as that I think the income of an abbey or two held in commendam without the trouble of getting my head shaved satisfied me at present I was not joking said Tornebroni with grave suoverty I think a scholar would always be the better off for taking orders but we'll talk of that another time one of the objects to be first born in mind is that you should win the confidence of the men who hang about San Marco that is what Gianzo and I shall do but you may carry it further than we can because you are less observed in that way you can get a thorough knowledge of their doings and you will make a broader screen for your agency on our side nothing of course can be done before you start for Rome because this bit of business between Piero di Mazzini and the French nobles must be affected at once I mean when you come back of course I need to say no more I believe you could make yourself the pet factory of San Marco if you liked but you are wise enough to know that effective dissimulation is never immoderate if it were not that adhesion to the popular side is necessary to your safety as an agent of our party I could have wished your skill to have been employed in another way for which it is still better fitted but now we must look out for some other men among us who will manage to get into the confidence of our sworn enemies the Arabatae we need to know their movements more than those of the Fatte's party who are strong in their own way we need to know their movements more than those of the Fatte's party who are strong enough to play above board still it would have been a difficult thing for you from your known relations with the Mazzini a little while back and that sort of kinsmanship your wife has with Bernardo del Nero you must find a man who has no distinguished connections and who has not yet taken any side Tito was pushing his hair backward automatically as his manner was and looking straight at Pucci with a scarcely perceptible smile on his lip no need to look out for anyone else he said promptly I can manage the whole business with perfect ease I will engage to make myself the special confident of that thick headed Dolphos Beanie and known his projects before he knows them himself Tito seldom spoke so confidently of his own powers but he was in a state of exaltation at the sudden opening of a new pact before him where fortune seemed to have hung higher prizes than any he had thought of Hibbetu Hibbetu he had seen success only in the form of favour it now flashed on him in the shape of power of such power as is possible to talent without traditional ties and without beliefs each party that thought of him as a tool might become dependent on him his precision as an alien, his indifference to the ideas or prodigies of the men amongst whom he moved were suddenly transformed into advantages he became newly conscious of his own adroitness in the presence of a game that he was called on to play and all the motives which might have made Tito shrink from the triple deceit that came before him as a tempting game had been slowly strangled in him by the successive felicitas of his life our lives make a moral decision for our individual selves as the life of mankind at large makes a moral tradition for the race and to have one acted nobly seems a reason why we should always be noble but Tito was feeling the effect of an opposite tradition he had won no memories of self-conquest and perfect faithfulness from which he could have a sense of falling the triple colloquy went on with growing spirit till it was interrupted by a call from the table properly the movement came from the listeners in the party who were afraid at least the talkers should tire themselves at all events it was agreed that there had been enough of gravity and Richali had just ordered new flasks of Monte Parcano how many minstrels are there among us he said when there had been a general rallying around the table Malema I think you are the chief Mato will give you the loot I yes said Gianzo Pucci lead the last chorus from Palenzo off through that you have found such an excellent measure for and we will all fall in Kaya samsigwa o bako tib bako bako evo evo the servant put the loot into Tito's hands and then said something in an undertone to his master a little subdued questioning and answering went on between them while Tito touched the loot in a polluting way to the strain of the chorus and there was a confusion of speech and musical humming all around the table Bernardo Rachele had said wait a moment Milena but the words have been unheard by Tito who was leaning towards Pucci and singing low to him the phrases of the miande chorus he noticed nothing till the buzz round the table suddenly ceased and the notes of his own voice with its soft low tone triumph evo evo fell in startling isolation it was a strange moment Baldassa had moved round the table till he was opposite Tito and as the hum ceased there might be seen for an instant Baldurazeri's fierce dark eyes bent on Tito's bright smiling unconsciousness while the low notes of triumph dropped from his lips into the silence Tito looked up with a slight start and his lips turned pale but he seemed hardly more moved than Gianzo Pucci who had looked up at the same moment for even than several others round the table for that sallow deep-lined face with the hatred in its eyes seemed a terrible apparition across the Waxlit Ease and Gayakhti and Tito quickly recovered some self-command a mad old man he looks like it he is mad was the instantaneous thought that brought some courage with it for he could not conjecture no inward change in Baldassaer since they had met before he just let his eyes fall and laid the loot on the table with apparent ease but his fingers pinched the neck of the loot hard while he governed his head and his glance sufficiently to look with an air of quiet appeal towards Bernardo Rucelli who said at once good man what is your business what is the important declaration that you have to make Master Bernardo Rucelli I wish you and your honourable friends to know in what sort of company you are sitting there is a traitor among you there was a general movement of alarm everyone present except Tito brought of political danger and not of private injury Baldassaer began to speak as if he was thoroughly assured of what he had to say but in spite of his long preparation for this moment there was the tremor of overmastering excitement in his voice his passion shook him he went on but he did not say what he had meant to say as he fixed his eyes on Tito again the passionate words were like blows they defied for meditation there is a man among you who is a scoundrel a liar a robber I was a father to him I took him from beggary when he was a child I reared him I cherished him I taught him I made him a scholar my head has lain hard that his might have a pillow and he left me in slavery he solved the gems that were mine and when I came again he denied me the last words had been uttered with almost convulsed agitation and Baldassaer paused trembling all glances were turned on Tito who was now looking straight at Baldassaer it was a moment of desperation that annihilating all feeling in him accept the determination to risk everything for the chance of escape and he gathered confidence from the agitation by which Baldassaer was evidently shaken he had ceased to pinch the neck of the loot and had thrust his thumbs into his belt while his lips had begun to assume a slight curl he had never yet done an act of murderous quality even to the smallest animal that could utter a cry but at that moment he would have been capable of treading the breath from a smiling child for the sake of his own safety what does this mean Melimer? said Bernardo Rucelli in a tone of cautious surprise he as well as the rest of the company felt relieved that the tenor of the accusation was not political Mesa Bernardo said Tito I believe this man is mad I did not recognise him the first time he encountered me in Florence but I know now that he is the servant who years ago accompanied me and my adopted father to Greece and was dismissed on account of misdemeanours his name is Giacopo di Nala even at that time I believe his mind was unhinged for without any reason he had conceived a strange hatred towards me and now I am convinced that he is laboring under a mania which causes him to mistake his identity he has a reality attempted my life since he has been in Florence and I am in constant danger from him but he is an object of pity rather than of indignation it is too certain that my father is dead you have only my word for it but I must leave it to your judgement how far it is probable that a man of intellect and learning would have been lurking about in dark corners for the last month with the purpose of assassinating me or how far it is probable that if this man were my second father I could have any motive for denying him that story about my being rescued from beggary is the vision of a deceased brain but it will be a satisfaction to me at least if you would demand from him proofs of his identity at least any malignant person should choose to make this mad impeachment a reproach to me Tito had felt more and more confidence as he went on the lie was not so difficult when it was once begun and as the words fell easily from his lips they gave him a sense of power such as men feel when they have begun a muscular feat successfully in this way he acquired boldness enough to end with a challenge for proofs while Dessert while he had been walking in the gardens and afterwards waiting in an outer room of the pavilion with the servants had been making anew the digest of the evidence he would bring to prove his identity and Tito's baseness recalling the description and history of his gems and assuring himself by rapid mental glances that he could attest his learning and his travels it might be partly owing to this nervous strain that the new shock of rage he felt as Tito's life fell on his ears brought a strange bodily effect with it a cold stream seemed to rush over him and the last words of the speech seemed to be drowned by ringing chimes thought gave way to a dizzy horror as if the earth were slipping away from under him everyone in the room was looking at him as Tito ended and saw that the eyes which had had such fierce intensity only a few minutes before had now a vague fear in them he clutched the back of a seat and was silent hardly any evidence could have been more in favour of Tito's assertion surely I have seen this man before somewhere said Torna Bjorni certainly you have said Tito readily in a low tone he is the escaped prisoner who clutched me on the steps of the Dume I did not recognise him then he looks now more as he used to do except that he has a more unmistakable air of mad imbecility I cast no doubt on your word Melimer said Bernardo Rucelli with cautious gravity but you are right to desire some positive test of the fact then turning to Bauded Desire he said if you are the person you claim to be you can doubt us give some description of the gems which were your property I myself was the purchaser of more than one gem from Mesa Tito the chief rings I believe in his collection one of them is a fine sword engraved with a subject from Homer if as you allege you are a scholar and the rightful owner of that ring you can doubtless turn to the noted passage in Homer from which that subject is taken do you accept this test Melimer or do you have anything to allege against his validity the Jacopo you speak of was he a scholar it was a fearful crisis for Tito if he said yes his quick mind told him that he would shake the credibility of his story if he said no he risked everything on the uncertain extent of Bauded Desire's imbecility but there was no noticeable pause before he said no I accept the test there was a dead silence while Rucelli moved towards the recess where the books were and came back with a fine Florentine Homer in his hand Bauded Desire when he was addressed had turned his head towards the speaker and Rucelli believed that he had understood him but he chose to repeat what he had said that there might be no mistake as to the test the ring I possessed he said is a fine sword engraved with a subject from Homer there was no other at all resembling it in Mesa Tito's collection will you turn to the passage in Homer from which that subject is taken seat yourself here he added laying the book on the table and pointing to his own seat while he stood beside it Bauded Desire had so far recovered from the first confused horror produced by the sensation of rushing coldness and chiming din in the ears as to be partly aware of what was said to him he was aware that something was being demanded from him to prove his identity but he formed no distinct idea of the details the site of the book record the habitual longing and faint hope that he could read and understand and he moved toward chair immediately the book was open before him and he bent his head a little towards it while everybody watched him eagerly he turned no leaf his eyes wandered over the pages that lay before him and then fixed on them a straining gaze this lasted for two or three minutes in dead silence then he lifted his hands to each side of his head and said in the low tone of despair lost lost there was something so piteous in the wandering look and the low cry that while they confirmed the belief in his madness they raised compassion nay so distinct sometimes is the working of a double consciousness within us that Tito himself while he triumphed in the apparent verification of his lie wished that he had never made the lie necessary to himself wished he had recognised his father on the steps wished he had gone to seek him wished everything had been different but he had borrowed from the terrible usher of falsehood and the loan had mounted and mounted with the years till he belonged to the usurer body and soul the compassion excited in all the witnesses was not without its danger to Tito for conjecture is constantly guided by feeling and more than one person suddenly conceived that this man might have been a scholar or have lost his faculties on the other hand they have not present to their minds the motives which could have led Tito to the denial of his benefactor and having no ill will towards him it would have been difficult to them to believe that he had been uttering the facet of lies and the originally common type of Father Desaire's person coarsened by years of hardship told as a confirmation of Tito's lie if Father Desaire to begin with could have uttered precisely the words he had been meditated there might have been something in the form of his accusation which would have given it the stamp not only of true experience but of mental refinement but there had been no such testimony in his impulsive agitated words and there seemed the very opposite testimony in the rugged face and the coarse hands that trembled beside it standing out in strong contrast in the midst of that velvet clad bare-handed company his next movement while he was being watched in silence told against him too he took his hands from his head and felt for something under his tunic everyone guessed what that movement meant guessed that there was a weapon at his side glances were interchanged and Bernardo Riccialli said in a quiet tone touching Father Desaire's shoulder my friend this is an important business of yours you shall have all justice follow me into a private room Father Desaire was still in that half stunned state in which he was susceptible to any prompting in the same way as an insect that forms no conception of what the prompting needs to he rose from his seat and followed Riccialli out of the room in two or three minutes Riccialli came back again and said he is safe under lock and key Piero Pitti you are one of the magnificent eight what do you think of our sending Ratio to the palace for a couple of spirit who may escort him to the stench the largest prison in Florence if there is any danger in him as I think there is he will be safe there and we can inquire about him tomorrow Pitti ascended and the order was given he is certainly an ill looking fellow said Torna Bione and you say he has attempted your life already Malama and the talk turned on the various forms of madness and the fierceness of the southern blood if the seeds of conjecture unfavourable to Tito had been planted in the mind of anyone present they were hardly strong enough to grow without the aid of much daylight and ill will the common looking, wild-eyed old man clad in surge might have one belief without very strong evidence if he had accused a man who was envied and disliked as it was the only congruence and provical view of the case seemed to be the one that sent the unpleasant accuser safely out of sight and left the pleasant serviceable Tito just where he was before the subject gradually floated away and gave place to others told a heavy tramp and something like the struggling of a man who was being drabbed away were heard outside the sounds soon died out and the interruptions seemed to make the last hours conviviality more resolute and vigorous everyone was willing to forget a disagreeable incident Tito's heart was palpitating and the wine tasted no better to him than if it had been blood tonight he had paid a heavier price than ever to make himself safe he did not like the price and yet it was inevitable that he should be glad of the purchase and after all he led the chorus he was in a state of excitement in which oppressive sensations and the wretched consciousness of something hateful but irrevocable were mingled with a feeling of triumph which seemed to assert itself as the feeling that would subsist and be master of tomorrow and it was master for on the morrow as we saw when he was about to start on his mission to Rome he had the air of a man well satisfied with the world End of Chapter 39 Recording by Elaine Webb Bristol, England Chapter 40 of Ramola This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Ramola by George Elliot Chapter 40 An Arresting Voice When Ramola sat down on the stone under the cypress all things conspired to give her the sense of freedom and solitude her escape from the accustomed walls and streets the widening distance from her husband who was by this time riding towards Siena while every hour would take her further on the opposite way the morning stillness the great dip of ground on the roadside making a gulf between her and the somber calm of the mountains For the first time in her life she felt alone in the presence of the earth and sky with no human presence interposing and making a law for her Suddenly a voice close to her said you are Ramola de Bardi the wife of Tito Malema she knew the voice it had vibrated through her more than once before and because she knew it she did not turn round or look up she sat shaken by awe and yet inwardly rebelling against the awe it was one of those black skirted monks who was daring to speak to her and interfering with her privacy that was all and yet she was shaken as if that destiny which men thought of as accepted deity had come to her and grasped her with fingers of flesh you are fleeing from Florence in disguise I have a command from God to stop you you are not permitted to flee Ramola's anger at the intrusion mounted higher at these imperative words she would not turn round to look at the speaker who is examining gaze she resented sitting quite motionless she said what right of you to speak to me or to hinder me the right of a messenger you have put on a religious garb and you have no religious purpose you have sought the garb as a disguise but you were not suffered to pass me without being discerned it was declared to me who you were it was declared to me that you are seeking to escape from the locked God has laid upon you you wish your true name and your true place in life to be hidden that you may choose for yourself a new name and a new place and have no rule but your own will and I have a command to call you back my daughter you must return to your place Ramola's mind rose in stronger rebellion with every sentence she was the more determined not to show any sign of submission because the consciousness of being inwardly shaken made her dread lest she should fall into irresolution she spoke with more irritation than before I will not return I acknowledge no right of priests and monks to interfere with my actions you have no power over me I know I know you have been brought up in scorn of obedience but it is not the poor monk who claims to interfere with you it is the truth that commands you and you cannot escape it either you must obey it and it will lead you or you must disobey it and it will hang on you with the weight of a chain which you will drag forever but you will obey it my daughter your old servant will return to you with the mules my companion is gone to fetch him and you will go back to Florence she started up with anger in her eyes and faced the speaker it was Fragerolamo she knew that well enough before she was nearly as tall as he was and their faces were almost on a level she had started up with defiant words ready to burst from her lips but they fell back again without utterance she had met Fragerolamo's calm glance and the impression from it was so new to her that her anger sank ashamed as something irrelevant there was nothing transcended in Savonarola's face it was not beautiful it was strong featured and owed all its refinement to habits of mind and rigid discipline of the body the source of the impression his glance produced on Amola was the sense it conveyed to her of interest in her and care for her apart from any personal feeling it was the first time she had encountered a gaze in which simple human fellowship expressed itself as a strongly felt bond such a glance is half the vocation of the priest or spiritual guide of men and Ramola felt it impossible again to question his authority to speak to her she stood silent looking at him and he spoke again you assert your freedom proudly my daughter but who is so base as the debtor that thinks himself free there was a sting in those words and Ramola's countenance changed as if a subtle pale flash had gone over it and you are flying from your debts the debt of a Florentine woman the debt of a wife you are turning your back on the lot you have been appointed for you you are going to choose another but can man or woman choose duties no more than they can choose their birthplace or their father and mother my daughter you are fleeing from the presence of God into the wilderness as the anger melted from Ramola's mind it had given place to a new presentiment of the strength there might be in submission if this man at whom she was beginning to look had some valid law to show her but no it was impossible he could not know what determined her yet she could not again simply refuse to be guided she was constrained to plead and in her new need to be reverent while she resisted the title which she had never given him before came to her lips without forethought my father you cannot know the reasons which compel me to go none can know them but myself none can judge for me I have been driven by great sorrow I am resolved to go I know enough my daughter my mind has been so far illuminated concerning you that I know enough you are not happy in your married life but I am not a confessor and I seek to know nothing that should be reserved for the seal of confession I have a divine warrant to stop you which does not depend on such knowledge you were warned by a message from heaven delivered in my presence you were warned before marriage when you might still have lawfully chosen to be free from the marriage bond but you chose the bond and in willfully breaking it I speak to you as a pagan if the holy mystery of matrimony is sacred to you you are breaking a pledge of what wrongs will you complain my daughter when you yourself are committing one of the greatest wrongs a woman and a citizen can be guilty of withdrawing in secrecy and disguise from a pledge which you have given in the face of God and your fellow men of what wrongs will you complain when you yourself are breaking the simplest law that lies at the foundation of the trust which binds man to man faithfulness to the spoken word this then is the wisdom you have gained by scawning the mysteries of the church not to see the bare duty in integrity where the church would have taught you to see not integrity only but religion the blood had rushed to Ramola's face and she shrank as if she had been stricken I would not have put her on a disguise she began but she could not go on she was too much shaken by the suggestion in the Flathe's words of a possible affinity between her own conduct and Titus and to break that pledge you fly from Florence Florence where there are the only men and women in the world to whom you owe the debt of a fellow citizen I should never have quitted Florence said Ramola tremulously as long as there was any hope of my fulfilling a duty to my father there and do you own no tie but that of a child to her father in the flesh your life has been spent in blindness my daughter you have lived with those who sit on a hill aloof and looked down on the life of their fellow men I know their vain discourse it is of what has been in the times which they fill with their own fancied wisdom while they scorn God's work in the present and doubtless you were taught how there were pagan women who felt what it was to live for the Republic yet you have never felt that you a Florentine woman should live for Florence if your own people are wearing a yoke will you slip from under it instead of struggling with them to lighten it there is hunger and misery in our streets yet you say I care not I have my own sorrows I will go away if per adventure I can ease them the servants of God are struggling after a law of justice peace and charity that the hundred thousand citizens among whom you were born may be governed righteously but you think no more of this than if you were a bird that may spread its wings and fly wither at will in search of food to its liking and the teaching of the church my daughter as if you will fall wanderer following your own blind choice were not below the humblest Florentine woman who stretches forth her hands with her own people and craves a blessing for them and feels a close sisterhood with the neighbour who kneels beside her and is not of her own blood and thinks of the mighty purpose that God has for Florence and waits and endures the promised work is great and she feels herself little I was not going away to ease and self indulgence said Ramola raising her head again with a prompting to vindicate herself I was going away to hardship I expect no joy it is gone from my life you are seeking your own will my daughter you are seeking some good other than the law you are bound to obey but how will you find good it is not a thing of choice it is a river that flows from the foot of the invisible throne and flows by the path of obedience I say again man cannot choose his duties you may choose to forsake your duties and choose not to have the sorrow they bring but you will go forth and what will you find my daughter sorrow without duties bitter herbs and no bread with them if you knew said Ramola clasping her hands and pressing them tight as she looked pleadingly at Fragerolomo if you knew what it was to me how impossible it seemed to me to bear it my daughter he said pointing to the cord round Ramola's neck you carry something within your mantle draw it forth and look at it Ramola gave a slight start but her impulse now was to do just what Savonarola told her her self-doubt was grappled by a stronger will and a stronger conviction than her own she drew forth the crucifix still pointing towards it he said there my daughter is the image of the supreme offering made by supreme love because the need of man was great he paused and she held the crucifix trembling trembling under a sudden impression of the wide distance between her present and her past self what a length of road she had travelled through since she first took that crucifix from the flat his hands had life as many secrets before her still as it had for her then in her young blindness it was a thought that helped all others of doing influences and at the sound of Fragerola's voice again Ramola with a quick involuntary movement pressed the crucifix against her mantle and looked at him with more submission than before conform your life to that image my daughter make your sorrow an offering and when the fire of divine charity burns within you and you behold the need of your fellow men by the light of that flame you will not call your offering great you have carried yourself proudly as one who held herself not of common blood or of common thoughts but you have been as one unborn to the true life of man what? you say your love for your father no longer tells you to stay in Florence then since that tie is snapped you are without a law without religion you are better than a beast of the field when she is robbed of her young if the yearning of a fleshly love is gone you are without love without obligation see then my daughter how you are below the life of the believer who worships that image of the supreme offering and feels the glow of a common life with the lost multitude for whom that offering was made and behold the history of the world in which redemption in which he is himself a fellow worker in his own place and among his own people if you held that faith my beloved daughter you would not be a wanderer flying from suffering and blindly seeking the good of a freedom which is lawlessness you would feel that Florence was the home of your soul as well as your birthplace because you would see the work that was given to you to do there you forsake your place who will fill it you ought to be in your place now helping in the great work by which God will purify Florence and raise it to be the guide of the nations what? the earth is full of iniquities full of groans the light is still struggling with a mighty darkness and you say I cannot bear my bonds under I will go where no man claims me my daughter every bond of your life is a debt the right lies in the payment of that debt it can lie nowhere else in vain will you wander over the earth you will be wandering forever away from the right Ramola was inwardly struggling with strong forces that immense personal influence of Savonarola which came from the energy of his emotions and beliefs and her consciousness surmounting all prejudice that his words implied a higher law than any she had yet obeyed but the resisting thoughts were not yet overborn how then could Dino be right he broke ties he fussed up his place that was a special vocation he was constrained to depart else he could not have attained his life it would have been stifled within him and I too said Ramola raising her hands to her brow and speaking in a tone of anguish as if she were being dragged to some torture Father you may be wrong ask your conscience my daughter you have no vocation such as your brother had you are a wife you seek to break your ties in self-will and anger not because the higher life calls upon you to renounce them the higher life begins for us my daughter when we renounce our own will to bow before a divine law that seems hard to you it is the portal of wisdom and freedom and blessedness and the symbol of it hangs before you that wisdom is the religion of the cross and you stand aloof from it you are a pagan you have been taught to say I am as the wise men who lived before the time when the Jew of Nazareth was crucified and that is your wisdom to be as the dead whose eyes are closed and whose ear is deaf to the work of God that has been since their time what has your dead wisdom done for you my daughter it has left you without a heart for the neighbours among whom you dwell without care for the great work by which Florence is to be regenerated and the world made holy it has left you without a share in the divine life which quenches the sense of suffering self in the orders of an ever growing love and now when the sword has pierced your soul you say I will go away I cannot bear my sorrow and you think nothing of your sorrow and the wrong that are within the walls of the city where you dwell you would leave your place empty when it ought to be filled with your pity and your labour if there is wickedness in the streets your steps should shine with the light of purity if there is a cry of anguish you my daughter because you know the meaning of the cry should be there to still it my beloved daughter the sorrow has come to teach you a new worship the sign of it hangs before you Ramola's mind was still torn by conflict she foresaw that she should obey Savonarola and go back his words had come to her as if they were an interpretation of that revulsion from self-satisfied ease and of that new fellowship with suffering which had already been awakened in her his arresting voice had brought a new condition which made it seem impossible to her that she could go on her way as if she had not heard it yet she shrank as one who sees the path she must take but sees too that the hot lava lies there and the instinctive shrinking from the return to her husband brought doubts she turned away her eyes from Fragerola and stood for a minute or two with her hands hanging clasped before her like a statue at last she spoke as if the words were being rung from her still looking on the ground my husband he is not my love is gone my daughter there is a bond of a higher love marriage is not carnal only made for selfish delight see what that thought leads you to it leads you to wander away in a false garb all the obligations of your place and name that would not have been if you had learned that it is a sacramental vow from which none but God can release you my daughter your life is not a grain of sand to be blown by the winds it is a thing of flesh and blood that dies if it be sundered your husband is not a malefactor Ramola started heaven forbid no, I accuse him of nothing I did not suppose he was a malefactor I meant that if he were a malefactor your place would be in the prison beside him my daughter if the cross comes to you as a wife you must carry it as a wife you may say I will forsake my husband but you cannot cease to be a wife if how could I bear Ramola had involuntarily begun to say something which she sought to banish from her mind again make your marriage sorrow as an offering to my daughter an offering to the great work by which sin and sorrow are being made to cease the end is sure and is already beginning here in Florence it is beginning and the eyes of faith behold it and it may be our blessedness to die for it to die daily by the crucifixion of our selfish will to die at last by laying our bodies on the altar my daughter you are a child of Florence fulfill the duties of that great inheritance live for Florence for your own people whom God is preparing bless the earth bear the anguish and the smart the iron is sharp I know I know it rends the tender flesh the draught is bitterness on the lips but there is rapture in the cup there is the vision which makes all life below it dross forever come my daughter come back to your place while Savonarola spoke with growing intensity his arms tightly folded before him still as they had been from the first but his face alight as from an inward flame Ramola felt herself surrounded and possessed by the glow of his passionate faith the chilled outs all melted away she was subdued by the sense of something unspeakably great to which she was being called by a strong being who roused a new strength within her in a voice that was like a low prayer for her she said father I will be guided teach me I will go back almost unconsciously she sank on her knees Savonarola stretched out his hands over her but feeling would no longer pass through the channel of speech and he was silent end of chapter 40 chapter 41 of Ramola this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Ramola by George Elliot chapter 41 coming back rise my daughter said Fragerola might last your servant is waiting not far off with the mules it is time that I should go onward to Florence Ramola arose from her knees that silent attitude had been a sort of sacrament to her confirming the state of yearning passivity on which she had newly entered by the one act of renouncing her resolve to put her husband her will seemed so utterly bruised that she felt the need of direction even in small things she lifted up the edge of her cow and saw Mazzo and the second Dominican standing with their backs toward her on the edge of the hill she looked ten yards from her but she looked at Savonarola again without speaking as if the order to Mazzo to turn back must come from him and not from her I will go and call them he said answering her glance of appeal and I will recommend you my daughter to the brother who is with me you desire to put yourself under guidance and to learn that wisdom which has been hitherto as foolishness to you a chief gate of that wisdom is the sacrament of confession you will need a confessor my daughter and I desire to put you under the care of Fra Salvestro one of the Brezren of San Marco in whom I most confide I would rather have no guidance but yours father said Ramola looking anxious my daughter I do not act as a confessor the vocation I have withdraws me from offices would force me into frequent contact with the laity and interfere with my special duties then shall I not be able to speak to you in private if I waver if Ramola broke off from rising agitation she felt a sudden alarm lest her new strength in renunciation should vanish if the immediate personal influence of Savonarola vanished my daughter this all has need of the word in private from my lips you will let me know it through Fra Salvestro and I will see you in the sacristy or in the choir of San Marco and I will not cease to watch over you I will instruct my brother concerning you that he may guide you into that path of labour for the suffering and the hungry to which you are called as a daughter of Florence in these times of hard need I desire to behold you among the feebler and more ignorant sisters as the apple tree among the trees of the forest so that your fairness and all natural gifts may be as a lamp through which the divine light shines the more purely I will go now and call your servant when Mazzo had been sent a little way in advance Fra Salvestro came forward and Savonarola led Ramola towards him she had beforehand felt an inward shrinking from a new guide who was a total stranger to her but to have resisted Savonarola's advice would have been to assume an attitude of independence at a moment when all her strength must be drawn from the renunciation of independence and the whole bent of her mind now was towards doing what was painful rather than what was easy she bowed reverently to Fra Salvestro before looking directly at him but when she raised her head and saw him fully her reluctance became a palpitating doubt there are men whose presence infuses trust and reverence there are others to whom we have need to carry our trust and reverence ready made and that difference flashed on Ramola as she ceased to have Savonarola before her and so in his stead Fra Salvestro marufi it was not that there was anything manifestly repulsive in Fra Salvestro's face and manner any air of hypocrisy any tinge of coarseness his face was handsomer than Fra Salvestro was his person a little taller he was the long accepted confessor of many among the chief personages in Florence and had therefore had large experience as a spiritual director but his face had the fascinating expression of a mind unable to concentrate itself strongly in the channel of one great emotional belief an expression which is fatal to influence over an ardent nature like Ramola's such an expression is not the stamp of insincerity it is the stamp simply of a shallow soul which will often be found sincerely striving to fill a high vocation sincerely composing its countenance to the utterance of sublime formulas but finding the muscles twitch or relax in spite of belief as prose insists on coming instead of poetry to the man who has not the divine frenzy Fra Salvestro had a peculiar liability to visions dependent apparently on a constitution given to Sonambilism Savonarola believed in the supernatural character of these visions while Fra Salvestro himself had originally resisted such an interpretation of them and had even rebuked Savonarola for his prophetic preaching another proof, if one were wanted that the relative greatness of men is not to be gauged by their tendency to disbelieve the superstitions of their age for of these two there can be no question which was the great man and which the small the difference between them was measured very accurately by the change and Ramola's feeling as Fra Salvestro began to address her in words of exaltation and encouragement after her first anger resistance of Savonarola had passed away she had lost all remembrance of the old dread lest any influence should drag her within the circle of fanaticism and sour monkish piety but now again the chill breath of that dread stole over her it could have no decisive effect against the impetus her mind had just received it was only like the closing of the grey clouds over the sunrangs which made her returning path monotonous and somber and perhaps of all somber paths that on which we go back after treading it with a strong resolution is the one that most severely tests differentiation as they re-entered the city gates the light snowflakes fell about them and as the grey sister walked hastily homeward from the piazza di San Marco and trod the bridge again and turned in at the large door in the Via di Bardi her footsteps were marked darkly on the thin carpet of snow and her cowl fell laden and damp about her face she went up to her room threw off her surge and her writing letters replaced all her precious trifles unbound her hair and put on her usual black dress instead of taking a long exciting journey she was to sit down in her usual place the snow fell against the windows and she was alone she felt the dreariness yet her courage was high like that of a seeker who has come on new signs of gold she was going to thread life into that clue she had thrown all the energy of her will into renunciation the empty tabernacle remained locked and she placed Dino's crucifix outside it nothing broke the outward monotony in her solitary home till the night came like a white ghost at the windows yet it was the most memorable Christmas Eve in her life to Ramona this of 1494 chapter 41 chapter 42 of Ramona this is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Ramona by George Elliot chapter 42 Ramona in her place it was the 30th of October 1496 the sky that morning was clear enough and there was a pleasant autumnal breeze but the Florentines just then thought very little about the land breezes they were thinking of the gales at sea which seemed to be uniting with all other powers to disprove the Friday's declaration that heaven took special care of Florence for those terrible gales had driven away from the coast of Leghorn certain ships from Marseille freighted with soldiery and corn and Florence was in the direst need first of food and secondly of fighting men Paol Famon was in her streets and her territory was threatened on all its borders for the French king that knew Charlemagne who had entered Italy in anticipatory triumph and had conquered Naples without the least trouble had gone away again 15 months ago and was even, it was feared in his grief for the loss of a newborn son and the languid intention of coming back again to redress grievances and set the church in order a leg had been formed against him a holy leg with Pope Borgia at its head to drive out the barbarians who still garrisoned the fortress of Naples that had a patriotic sound but looked at more closely the holy leg seemed very much like an agreement among certain wolves to drive away all other wolves and then to see which among themselves could snatch the largest share of the prey and there was a general disposition to regard Florence not as a fellow wolf but rather as a desirable carcass Florence therefore of all the chief Italian states had alone declined to join the leg adhering still to the French alliance she had declined at her peril at this moment Pisa still fighting savagely for liberty was being encouraged not only by strong forces from Venice and Milan but by the presence of the German Emperor Maximilian who had been invited by the leg and was joining the peasants with such troops as he had in the attempt to get possession of Leghorn while the coast was invested by Venetian and Genoese ships and if Leghorn should fall into the hands of the enemy woe to Florence for if that one outlet towards the sea were closed hedged in as she was on the land by the bitter ill will of the Pope and the jealousy of smaller states how could suckers reach her the government of Florence had shown a great heart in this urgent need meeting losses and defeats with vigorous effort raising fresh money raising fresh soldiers but not neglecting the good old method of Italian defence conciliatory embassies and while the scarcity of food was every day becoming greater they had resolved in opposition to old precedent not to shut out the starving country people and the mendicants driven from the gates of other cities who came flocking to Florence like birds from a land of snow these acts of a government in which the disciples of Savranola made the strongest element were not allowed to pass without criticism the disaffected were plentiful and they saw clearly that the government took the worst course for the public welfare Florence ought to join the leg and to make common cause with the other great Italian states instead of drawing down their hostility by a futile adherence to a foreign ally Florence ought to take care of her own citizens instead of opening her gates to famine and pestilence in the shape of starving, contidini and alien mendicants every day the distress became sharper every day the murmurs became louder and to crown the difficulties of the government for a month and more an obedience to a mandate from Rome for Agiro Lamo had ceased to preach but on the arrival of the terrible news that the ships from Marseille had been driven back and that no corn was coming the need for the voice that could infuse faith and patience into the people became too imperative to be resisted in defiance of the papal mandate the senioria requested Savranola to preach and two days ago he had mounted again the pulpit of the Duomo and had told the people only to wait and to be steadfast and the divine help would certainly come it was a bold sermon he consented to have his frock stripped off him if when Florence persevered in fulfilling the duties of piety and citizenship God did not come to her rescue yet at present on this morning of the 30th there were no signs of rescue perhaps if the precious tabernacle of the Madonna del Impranetta were brought into Florence and carried in devout procession to the Duomo that mother rich in sorrows and therefore in mercy would plead for the suffering city for a century and a half there were records how the Florentines suffering from drought or flood or famine or pestilence or the threat of wars had fetched the potent image within their walls and had found deliverance and grateful honour had been done to her and her ancient church of L'Impranetta the high house of Buondel Monti patrons of the church had to guard her hidden image with bare sword wealth had been poured out for prayers at her shrine for chantings and chapels and ever-burning lights and lands had been added till there was much quarrelling for the privilege of serving her the Florentines were deeply convinced of the graciousness to them so that the sight of her tabernacle within their walls was like the parting of the cloud and the proverb ran that the Florentines had a Madonna who would do what they pleased when were they in more need of her pleading pity than now and already the evening before the tabernacle containing the miraculous hidden image had been brought with high and reverent escort six miles beyond the gate of San Piero that looks towards Rome and had been deposited in the church of San Gagio outside the gate whence it was to be fetched in solemn procession by all the fraternities, trades and authorities of Florence but the pitying mother had not yet entered within the walls and the morning arose on unchanged misery and despondency pestilence was hovering in the track of famine not only the hospitals were full but the courtyards of private houses had been turned into refuges and infirmaries and still there was unsheltered want and early this morning as usual members of the various fraternities who made it part of their duty to bury the unfriended dead were bearing away the corpses that had sunk by the wayside as usual sweet womanly forms with the refined air and carriage of the well-born but in the plainest garb were moving about the streets on their daily errands of tending the sick and relieving the hungry one of these forms was easily distinguishable as Orolmola de Barate clad in the simplest garment of black surge with a plain piece of black drapery drawn over her head so as to hide all her hair except the bands of gold that rippled apart on her brow she was advancing from the Ponte Vettio towards the pora Santa Maria the street in a direct line with the bridge when she found her way obstructed by the pausing of a beer which was being carried by members of the company of son Jacopo de Popolo in search for the unburied dead the brethren at the head of the beer were stooping to examine something while a group of idle workmen with features paled and sharpened by hunger were clustering around and all talking at once he's dead, they tell you Monsieur Domenedio has loved him well enough to take him ah, and it would be well for us all if we could have our legs stretched out and go with our heads two or three borrachi foremost it's ill-standing upright with hunger to stop you well, well, he's an old fellow death has got to pour a bargain life's had the best of him and no Florentine, ten to one a beggar turned out of Siena San Giovanni defend us they have no need of soldiers to fight us they send us an army of starving men no, no, this man is one of the prisoners turned out of the Stance I know by the grey patch where the prison badge was and don't you see the brethren are going to lift him on the beer it's likely he's alive enough if he could only look at the soul may be inside him if it had only a drop of verinacea to warm it in truth I think he is not dead said one of the brethren when they had lifted him on the beer he has perhaps only sunk down for want of food let me try to give him some wine said Ramola coming forward she loosened at the smoreful ask which she carried at her belt and leaning toward the prostrate body with a deft hand she applied a small ivory implement between the teeth and poured into the mouth a few drops of wine the stimulus acted the wine was evidently swallowed she poured more to the head was moved a little towards her and the eyes of the old man opened full upon her with a vague look of returning consciousness then for the first time the sense of a complete recognition came over Ramola those wild dark eyes opening in the sallow deep lined face with the white beard which was now long again were like an unmistakable signature to a remembered handwriting the light of two summers had not made that image any fainter in Ramola's memory the image of the escaped prisoner whom she had seen in the Duomo the day when Tito first wore the armour her arse pit Tito was paled with terror in the strange sketch she had seen in Piedo's studio a wretched tremor and palpitation seized her now at last perhaps she was going to know some secret which might be more better than all that had gone before she felt an impulse to dart away as from a sight of horror and again a more imperious need to keep close by the side of this old man whom the formation of Keen feeling told her her husband had injured in the very instant of this conflict she still leaned towards him and kept her right hand ready to administer more wine while her left was passed under his neck her hands trembled but the habit of soothing helpfulness would have served to guide them without the direction of her thought Balasare was looking at her for the first time the closest seclusion in which Ramola's trouble had kept her in the weeks preceding her flight and his arrest had denied him the opportunity he had sought of seeing the wife who lived in the Via de Barati and at this moment the descriptions he had heard of the fair golden-haired woman were all gone like yesterday's waves will it not be well to carry him to the steps of San said Ramola we shall cease then to stop up the street and you can go on your way with your beer they had only to move on with for about 30 yards before reaching the steps of San and by this time Balasare was able himself to make some efforts towards getting off the beer and propping himself on the steps against the church doorway the charitable brethren passed on but the group of interested spectators who had nothing to do and much to say had considerably increased the feeling towards the old man was not so entirely friendly now it was quite certain that he was alive but the respect inspired by Ramola's presence caused the passing remarks to be made in a rather more subdued tone than before they gave him his morsel every day in the Stanche well without it you and I chat sure know better what it is to go to bed fasting that's why the magnificent eight have turned out some of the prisoners that they may shelter honest people instead but of every thief is to be brought to life with good wine and wheat and bread had better go and fill ourselves in Arno while the water's plenty Ramola had seated herself on the steps by Balasare and was saying can you eat a little bread now perhaps by and by you will be able if I leave it with you I must go on because I have promised to be at the hospital but I will come back if you will wait here and then I will take you to some shelter do you understand will you wait I will come back he looked dreamily at her and repeated her words come back it was no wonder that his mind he hoped that he apprehended her meaning she opened her basket which was filled with pieces of soft bread and put one of the pieces into his hand do you keep your bread for those that can't swallow Madonna said a rough looking fellow in a red nightcap who had elbowed his way into the inmost circle of spectators a circle that was pressing rather closely on Ramola if anybody isn't hungry said another he's better off than people who have got cravings stomachs and no breakfast yes indeed if a man's a mind to die it's a time to encourage him instead of making him come back to life against his will dead men want no trencher or you don't understand the frate's charity said a young man in an excellent cloth tunic whose face showed no signs of want the frate has been preaching to the birds like St. Anthony and he's been telling the hawks they were made to feed the sparrows as every good Florentine citizen was made to feed six starving beggarmen for Morezzo or Bologna Madonna there is a pious pignone she's not going to throw away her good bread on honest citizens who've got all the frate's prophecies to swallow come Madonna said he of the redcap the old thief doesn't eat the bread you see you'd better try us we fast so much we're half saints already the circle had narrowed till the coarse men most of them gaunt from privation had left hardly any margin round Tremola she had been taking from her basket a small horn cup and to which she put the piece of bread and just moistened it with wine and hitherto she had not appeared to heed them but now she rose to her feet and looked round at them instinctively the men who were nearest to her pushed backward a little as if their rude nearness were the fault of those behind Tremola held out the basket of bread to the man in the nightcap looking at him without any reproach in her glance as she said hunger is hard to bear I know and you have the power to take this bread if you will it was saved for sick women and children you are strong men but if you do not choose to suffer because you are strong you have the power to take everything from the weak you can take the bread from this basket but I shall watch by this old man I shall resist your taking the bread from him for a few moments there was perfect silence while Tremola looked at the faces before her and held out the basket of bread her own pale face had the slightly pinched look and the deepening of the eye socket which indicate unusual fasting in the habitually temperate and the large direct gaze of her hazel eyes was all the more impressive the man in the nightcap looked rather silly and backed thrusting his elbow into his neighbour's ribs with an air of moral rebuke the backing was general everyone wishing to imply that he had been pushed forward against his will and the young man in the fine cloth tunic had disappeared but at this moment the armed servitors of the senioria who had begun to patrol the line of streets through which the procession was to pass came up to disperse the group which was obstructing the narrow street the man addressed as chatior threatening mace up the church steps and said to Tremola in a respectful tone Madonna, if you want to go on your errands I'll take care of the old man chatior was a wild looking figure a very ragged tunic made shaggy and variegated by cloth dust and clinging fragments of wool gave relief to a pair of bare bony arms and a long sinewy neck with square jaw shaded by a bristly black beard his bridgeless nose and low forehead made his face look as if it had been crushed down for purposes of packing and a narrow piece of red rag tied over his ears seemed to assist in the compression Tremola looked at him with some hesitation don't distrust me Madonna said chatior who understood her look perfectly I am not so pretty as you I've got an old mother who eats my porridge for me what? there's a heart inside me and I've bought a candle for the most holy virgin before now besides, see there the old fellow is eating his sop he's hail enough he'll be on his legs as well as the best of us bye and bye thank you for offering to take care of him friend said Tremola rather penitent for her doubting glance she said pray wait for me till I come again he ascended with a slight movement of the head in hand and Tremola went on her way towards the hospital of San Mateo in the Piazza de San Marco end of chapter 42 recording by Felicity Campbell Whanganui www.book1forme.com New Zealand