Part 31 (1/2)

Romola had paused and turned her eyes on him as she saw him take his stand and lodge the key in his sca.r.s.ella. Her eyes were flas.h.i.+ng, and her whole frame seemed to be possessed by impetuous force that wanted to leap out in some deed. All the crus.h.i.+ng pain of disappointment in her husband, which had made the strongest part of her consciousness a few minutes before, was annihilated by the vehemence of her indignation.

She could not care in this moment that the man she was despising as he leaned there in his loathsome beauty--she could not care that he was her husband; she could only feel that she despised him. The pride and fierceness of the old Bardo blood had been thoroughly awaked in her for the first time.

”Try at least to understand the fact,” said t.i.to, ”and do not seek to take futile steps which may be fatal. It is of no use for you to go to your G.o.dfather. Messer Bernardo cannot reverse what I have done. Only sit down. You would hardly wish, if you were quite yourself, to make known to any third person what pa.s.ses between us in private.”

t.i.to knew that he had touched the right fibre there. But she did not sit down; she was too unconscious of her body voluntarily to change her att.i.tude.

”Why can it not be reversed?” she said, after a pause. ”Nothing is moved yet.”

”Simply because the sale has been concluded by written agreement; the purchasers have left Florence, and I hold the bonds for the purchase-money.”

”If my father had suspected you of being a faithless man,” said Romola, in a tone of bitter scorn, which insisted on darting out before she could say anything else, ”he would have placed the library safely out of your power. But death overtook him too soon, and when you were sure his ear was deaf, and his hand stiff, you robbed him.” She paused an instant, and then said, with gathered pa.s.sion, ”Have you robbed somebody else, who is _not_ dead? Is that the reason you wear armour?”

Romola had been driven to utter the words as men are driven to use the lash of the horsewhip. At first, t.i.to felt horribly cowed; it seemed to him that the disgrace he had been dreading would be worse than he had imagined it. But soon there was a reaction: such power of dislike and resistance as there was within him was beginning to rise against a wife whose voice seemed like the herald of a retributive fate. Her, at least, his quick mind told him that he might master.

”It is useless,” he said, coolly, ”to answer the words of madness, Romola. Your peculiar feeling about your father has made you mad at this moment. Any rational person looking at the case from a due distance will see that I have taken the wisest course. Apart from the influence of your exaggerated feelings on him, I am convinced that Messer Bernardo would be of that opinion.”

”He would not!” said Romola. ”He lives in the hope of seeing my father's wish exactly fulfilled. We spoke of it together only yesterday. He will help me yet. Who are these men to whom you have sold my father's property?”

”There is no reason why you should not be told, except that it signifies little. The Count di San Severino and the Seneschal de Beaucaire are now on their way with the king to Siena.”

”They may be overtaken and persuaded to give up their purchase,” said Romola, eagerly, her anger beginning to be surmounted by anxious thought.

”No, they may not,” said t.i.to, with cool decision.

”Why?”

”Because I do not choose that they should.”

”But if you were paid the money?--we will pay you the money,” said Romola.

No words could have disclosed more fully her sense of alienation from t.i.to; but they were spoken with less of bitterness than of anxious pleading. And he felt stronger, for he saw that the first impulse of fury was past.

”No, my Romola. Understand that such thoughts as these are impracticable. You would not, in a reasonable moment, ask your G.o.dfather to bury three thousand florins in addition to what he has already paid on the library. I think your pride and delicacy would shrink from that.”

She began to tremble and turn cold again with discouragement, and sank down on the carved chest near which she was standing. He went on in a clear voice, under which she shuddered, as if it had been a narrow cold stream coursing over a hot cheek.

”Moreover, it is not my will that Messer Bernardo should advance the money, even if the project were not an utterly wild one. And I beg you to consider, before you take any step or utter any word on the subject, what will be the consequences of your placing yourself in opposition to me, and trying to exhibit your husband in the odious light which your own distempered feelings cast over him. What object will you serve by injuring me with Messer Bernardo? The event is irrevocable, the library is sold, and you are my wife.”

Every word was spoken for the sake of a calculated effect, for his intellect was urged into the utmost activity by the danger of the crisis. He knew that Romola's mind would take in rapidly enough all the wide meaning of his speech. He waited and watched her in silence.

She had turned her eyes from him, and was looking on the ground, and in that way she sat for several minutes. When she spoke, her voice was quite altered,--it was quiet and cold.

”I have one thing to ask.”

”Ask anything that I can do without injuring us both, Romola.”

”That you will give me that portion of the money which belongs to my G.o.dfather, and let me pay him.”

”I must have some a.s.surance from you, first, of the att.i.tude you intend to take towards me.”

”Do you believe in a.s.surances, t.i.to?” she said, with a tinge of returning bitterness.