life, she spoke bitterly, in scorn and anger of his faithlessness, he
told her flatly it was useless to bandy words for he had sold them
already, and they were to be removed that day.

Frantic with grief and resentment, she thought of desperate ways of
preventing the accomplishment of his heartless plans, even to borrowing
of her godfather and buying back the treasures, so that Tito might keep
his ill-gotten gain and her father's last wish still be fulfilled; but
he convinced her that all interference was too late, for the things had
been purchased by the Count di San Severino and the Seneschal de
Beaucaire, who were already on their way with the French king to Sienna.

Latterly, in many ways, Romola had been disappointed in her husband's
character; she had found that his handsome face and gay air masked a
cowardice, a cunning meanness, a sordid selfishness of disposition that
were all at variance with her high ideal of him; but that final
unspeakable treachery of the dead man who had trusted him so implicitly
shattered her love for Tito utterly.

As soon as her father's library was dismantled and his treasures taken
away, Romola went from the house with the old man-servant, Maso, and
would never have looked upon Tito's face again, but that Fra Girolamo
intercepted her.

"I have a command to call you back," he said. "My daughter, you must
return to your place. You are flying from your debts; the debt of a
Florentine woman to her fellow citizens; the debt of a wife. You are
turning your back on the lot that has been appointed for you--you are
going to choose another. My daughter, you are fleeing from the presence
of God into the wilderness. My daughter, if the cross comes to you as a