"But," he resumed, in his original tone of condescension, "we are
departing from what I believe is your most important business. Nello
informed me that you had certain gems which you would fain dispose of."

"I have one or two intagli of much beauty," said Tito. "But they are now
in the keeping of Messer Domenico Cennini, who has a strong and safe
place for such things. He estimates them as worth at least five hundred
ducats."

"Ah, then, they are fine intagli!" said Bardo. "Five hundred ducats! Ah,
more than a man's ransom!"

Tito gave a slight, almost imperceptible start, and opened his long,
dark eyes with questioning surprise at Bardo's blind face, as if his
words--a mere phrase of common parlance at a time when men were often
being ransomed from slavery or imprisonment--had some special meaning
for him.

But Bardo had used the words in all innocence, and went on to talk of
superstitions that attached to certain gems, and to undertake that he
would use his influence with the Secretary of the Republic in Tito's
behalf. Both Romola and her father were attracted by the charm and
freshness and apparent simplicity of the young man; but just as he was
making ready to depart they were interrupted by the entrance of Bernardo
del Nero, one of the chief citizens of Florence, Bardo's oldest friend,
and Romola's godfather; and Bernardo felt an instant, instinctive
distrust of the handsome, ingratiating stranger, and did not hesitate to
say so after Tito had left them.