But our deeds are like children that are born to us; they live and act apart from our own will. Nay7, children may be strangled, but deeds never: they have an indestructible life both in and out of our consciousness; and that dreadful vitality8 of deeds was pressing hard on Tito for the first time.
He was going back to his lodgings9 in the Piazza10 di San Giovanni, but he avoided passing through the Mercato Vecchio, which was his nearest way, lest he should see Tessa. He was not in the humour to seek anything; he could only await the first sign of his altering lot.
The piazza with its sights of beauty was lit up by that warm morning sunlight under which the autumn dew still lingers, and which invites to an idlesse undulled by fatigue11. It was a festival morning, too, when the soft warmth seems to steal over one with a special invitation to lounge and gaze. Here, too, the signs of the fair were present; in the spaces round the octagonal baptistery, stalls were being spread with fruit and flowers, and here and there laden12 mules13 were standing14 quietly absorbed in their nose-bags, while their drivers were perhaps gone through the hospitable15 sacred doors to kneel before the blessed Virgin16 on this morning of her Nativity. On the broad marble steps of the Duomo there were scattered17 groups of beggars and gossiping talkers: here an old crone with white hair and hard sunburnt face encouraging a round-capped baby to try its tiny bare feet on the warmed marble, while a dog sitting near snuffed at the performance suspiciously; there a couple of shaggy-headed boys leaning to watch a small pale cripple who was cutting a face on a cherry-stone; and above them on the wide platform men were making changing knots in laughing desultory18 chat, or else were standing in close couples gesticulating eagerly.
But the largest and most important company of loungers was that towards which Tito had to direct his steps. It was the busiest time of the day with Nello, and in this warm season and at an hour when clients were numerous, most men preferred being shaved under the pretty red and white awning19 in front of the shop rather than within narrow walls. It is not a sublime20 attitude for a man, to sit with lathered21 chin thrown backward, and have his nose made a handle of; but to be shaved was a fashion of Florentine respectability, and it is astonishing how gravely men look at each other when they are all in the fashion. It was the hour of the day, too, when yesterday’s crop of gossip was freshest, and the barber’s tongue was always in its glory when his razor was busy; the deft23 activity of those two instruments seemed to be set going by a common spring. Tito foresaw that it would be impossible for him to escape being drawn24 into the circle; he must smile and retort, and look perfectly25 at his ease. Well! it was but the ordeal26 of swallowing bread and cheese pills after all. The man who let the mere27 anticipation28 of discovery choke him was simply a man of weak nerves.
But just at that time Tito felt a hand laid on his shoulder, and no amount of previous resolution could prevent the very unpleasant sensation with which that sudden touch jarred him. His face, as he turned it round, betrayed the inward shock; but the owner of the hand that seemed to have such evil magic in it broke into a light laugh. He was a young man about Tito’s own age, with keen features, small close-clipped head, and close-shaven lip and chin, giving the idea of a mind as little encumbered29 as possible with material that was not nervous. The keen eyes were bright with hope and friendliness30, as so many other young eyes have been that have afterwards closed on the world in bitterness and disappointment; for at that time there were none but pleasant predictions about Niccolo Macchiavelli, as a young man of promise, who was expected to mend the broken fortunes of his ancient family.
‘Why, Melema, what evil dream did you have last night, that you took my light grasp for that of a sbirro or something worse?’
‘Ah, Messer Niccolo!’ said Tito, recovering himself immediately; ‘it must have been an extra amount of dulness in my veins31 this morning that shuddered32 at the approach of your wit. But the fact is, I have had a bad night.’
‘That is unlucky, because you will be expected to shine without any obstructing33 fog to-day in the Rucellai Gardens. I take it for granted you are to be there.’
‘Messer Bernardo did me the honour to invite me,’ said Tito; ‘but I shall be engaged elsewhere.’
‘Ah! I remember, you are in love,’ said Macchiavelli, with a shrug34, ‘else you would never have such inconvenient35 engagements. Why, we are to eat a peacock and ortolans under the loggia among Bernardo Rucellai’s rare trees; there are to be the choicest spirits in Florence and the choicest wines. Only, as Piero de’ Medici is to be there, the choice spirits may happen to be swamped in the capping of impromptu36 verses. I hate that game; it is a device for the triumph of small wits, who are always inspired the most by the smallest occasions.’
‘What is that you are saying about Piero de’ Medici and small wits, Messer Niccolo?’ said Nello, whose light figure was at that moment predominating over the Herculean frame of Niccolo Caparra.
That famous worker in iron, whom we saw last with bared muscular arms and leathern apron37 in the Mercato Vecchio, was this morning dressed in holiday suit, and as he sat submissively while Nello skipped round him, lathered him, seized him by the nose, and scraped him with magical quickness, he looked much as a lion might if it had donned linen38 and tunic39 and was preparing to go into society.
‘A private secretary will never rise in the world if he couples great and small in that way,’ continued Nello. ‘When great men are not allowed to marry their sons and daughters as they like, small men must not expect to marry their words as they like. Have you heard the news Domenico Cennini, here, has been telling us? — that Pagolantonio Soderini has given Ser Picro da Bibbiena a box on the ear for setting on Piero de’ Medici to interfere40 with the marriage between young Tommaso Soderini ancl Fiammetta Strozzi, and is to be sent ambassador to Venice as a punishment?’
‘I don’t know which I envy him most,’ said Macchiavelli, ‘the offence or the punishment. The offence will make him the most popular man in all Florence, and the punishment will take him among the only people in Italy who have known how to manage their own affairs.’
‘Yes, if Soderini stays long enough at Venice,’ said Cennini, ‘he may chance to learn the Venetiam fashion, and bring it home with him. The Soderini have been fast friends of the Medici, but what has happened is likely to open Pagolantonio’s eyes to the good of our old Florentine trick of choosing a new harness when the old one galls41 us; if we have not quite lost the trick in these last fifty years.’
‘Not we,’ said Niccolo Caparra, who was rejoicing in the free use of his lips again. ‘Eat eggs in Lent and the snow will melt. That’s what I say to our people when they get noisy over their cups at San Gallo, and talk of raising a romor (insurrection): I say, never do you plan a romor; you may as well try to fill Arno with buckets. When there’s water enough Arno will be full, and that will not be till the torrent43 is ready.’
‘Caparra, that oracular speech of yours is due to my excellent shaving,’ said Nello. ‘You could never have made it with that dark rust44 on your chin. Ecco, Messer Domenico, I am ready for you now. By the way, my bel erudito,’ continued Nello, as he saw Tito moving towards the door, ‘here has been old Maso seeking for you, but your nest was empty. He will come again presently. The old man looked mournful, and seemed in haste. I hope there is nothing wrong in the Via de’ Bardi.’
‘Doubtless Messer Tito knows that Bardo’s son is dead,’ said Cronaca, who had just come up.
Tito’s heart gave a leap — had the death happened before Romola saw him?
‘No, I had not heard it,’ he said, with no more discomposure than the occasion seemed to warrant, turning and leaning against the doorpost, as if he had given up his intention of going away. ‘I knew that his sister had gone to see him. Did he die before she arrived?’
‘No,’ said Cronaca; ‘I was in San Marco at the time, and saw her come out from the chapter-house with Fra Girolamo, who told us that the dying man’s breath had been preserved as by a miracle, that he might make a disclosure to his sister.’
Tito felt that his fate was decided45. Again his mind rushed over all the circumstances of his departure from Florence, and he conceived a plan of getting back his money from Cennini before the disclosure had become public. If he once had his money he need not stay long in endurance of scorching46 looks and biting words. He would wait now, and go away with Cennini and get the money from him at once. With that project in his mind he stood motionless — his hands in his belt, his eyes fixed47 absently on the ground. Nello, glancing at him, felt sure that he was absorbed in anxiety about Romola, and thought him such a pretty image of self-forgetful sadness, that he just perceptibly pointed48 his razor at him, and gave a challenging look at Piero di Cosimo, whom he had never forgiven for his refusal to see any prognostics of character in his favourite’s handsome face. Piero, who was leaning against the other doorpost, close to Tito, shrugged49 his shoulders: the frequent recurrence50 of such challenges from Nello had changed the painter’s first declaration of neutrality into a positive inclination51 to believe ill of the much-praised Greek.
‘So you have got your Fra Girolamo back again, Cronaca? I suppose we shall have him preaching again this next Advent52,’ said Nello.
‘And not before there is need,’ said Cronaca, gravely. ‘We have had the best testimony53 to his words since the last Quaresima; for even to the wicked wickedness has become a plague; and the ripeness of vice1 is turning to rottenness in the nostrils54 even of the vicious. There has not been a change since the Quaresima, either in Rome or at Florence, but has put a new seal on the Frate’s words — that the harvest of sin is ripe, and that God will reap it with a sword.’
‘I hope he has had a new vision, however,’ said Francesco Cei, sneeringly55. ‘The old ones are somewhat stale. Can’t your Frate get a poet to help out his imagination for him?’
‘He has no lack of poets about him,’ said Cronaca, with quiet contempt, ‘but they are great poets and not little ones; so they are contented56 to be taught by him, and no more think the truth stale which God has given him to utter, than they think the light of the moon is stale. But perhaps certain high prelates and princes who dislike the Frate’s denunciations might be pleased to hear that, though Giovanni Pico, and Poliziano, and Marsilio Ficino, and most other men of mark in Florence, reverence57 Fra Girolamo, Messer Francesco Cei despises him.’
‘Poliziano?’ said Cei, with a scornful laugh. ‘Yes, doubtless he believes in your new Jonah; witness the fine orations58 he wrote for the envoys59 of Sienna, to tell Alexander the Sixth that the world and the Church were never so well off as since he became Pope.’
‘Nay, Francesco,’ said Macchiavelli, smiling, ‘a various scholar must have various opinions. And as for the Frate, whatever we may think of his saintliness, you judge his preaching too narrowly. The secret of oratory60 lies, not in saying new things, but in saying things with a certain power that moves the hearers — without which, as old Filelfo has said, your speaker deserves to be called, “non oratorem, sed aratorem.” And, according to that test, Fra Girolamo is a great orator61.’
‘That is true, Niccolo,’ said Cennini, speaking from the shaving-chair, ‘but part of the secret lies in the prophetic visions. Our people — no offence to you, Cronaca — will run after anything in the shape of a prophet, especially if he prophesies62 terrors and tribulations63.’
‘Rather say, Cennini,’ answered Cronaca, ‘that the chief secret lies in the Frate’s pure life and strong faith, which stamp him as a messenger of God.’
‘I admit it — I admit it,’ said Cennini, opening his palms, as he rose from the chair. ‘His life is spotless: no man has impeached64 it.’
‘He is satisfied with the pleasant lust65 of arrogance,’ Cei burst out, bitterly. ‘I can see it in that proud lip and satisfied eye of his. He hears the air filled with his own name — Fra Girolamo Savonarola, of Ferrara; the prophet, the saint, the mighty66 preacher, who frightens the very babies of Florence into laying down their wicked baubles67.’
‘Come, come, Francesco, you are out of humour with waiting,’ said the conciliatory Nello. ‘Let me stop your mouth with a little lather22. I must not have my friend Cronaca made angry: I have a regard for his chin; and his chin is in no respect altered since he became a Piagnone. And for my own part, I confess, when the Frate was preaching in the Duomo last Advent, I got into such a trick of slipping in to listen to him that I might have turned Piagnone too, if I had not been hindered by the liberal nature of my art; and also by the length of the sermons, which are sometimes a good while before they get to the moving point. But, as Messer Niccolo here says, the Frate lays hold of the people by some power over and above his prophetic visions. Monks68 and nuns69 who prophesy70 are not of that rareness. For what says Luigi Pulci? “Dombruno’s sharp-cutting scimitar had the fame of being enchanted71; but,” says Luigi, “I am rather of opinion that it cut sharp because it was of strongly-tempered steel.” Yes, yes; Paternosters may shave clean, but they must be said over a good razor.’
‘See, Nello!’ said Macchiavelli, ‘what doctor is this advancing on his Bucephalus? I thought your piazza was free from those furred and scarlet-robed lackeys72 of death. This man looks as if he had had some such night adventure as Boccaccio’s Maestro Simone and had his bonnet73 and mantle74 pickled a little in the gutter76; though he himself is as sleek77 as a miller’s rat.’
‘A-ah!’ said Nello, with a low long-drawn intonation78, as he looked up towards the advancing figure — a round-headed, round-bodied personage, seated on a raw young horse, which held its nose out with an air of threatening obstinacy79, and by a constant effort to back and go off in an oblique80 line showed free views about authority very much in advance of the age.
‘And I have a few more adventures in pickle75 for him,’ continued Nello, in an undertone, ‘which I hope will drive his inquiring nostrils to another quarter of the city. He’s a doctor from Padua; they say he has been at Prato for three months, and now he’s come to Florence to see what he can net. But his great trick is making rounds among the contadini. And do you note those great saddle-bags he carries? They are to hold the fat capons and eggs and meal he levies81 on silly clowns with whom coin is scarce. He vends82 his own secret medicines, so he keeps away from the doors of the druggists; and for this last week he has taken to sitting in my piazza for two or three hours every day, and making it a resort for asthmas and squalling bambini. It stirs my gall42 to see the toad-faced quack83 fingering the greasy84 quattrini, or bagging a pigeon in exchange for his pills and powders. But I’ll put a few thorns in his saddle, else I’m no Florentine. Laudamus! he is coming to be shaved: that’s what I’ve waited for. Messer Domenico, go not away: wait; you shall see a rare bit of fooling, which I devised two days ago. Here, Sandro!’
Nello whispered in the ear of Sandro, who rolled his solemn eyes, nodded, and, following up these signs of understanding with a slow smile, took to his heels with surprising rapidity.
‘How is it with you, Maestro Tacco?’ said Nello, as the doctor, with difficulty, brought his horse’s head round towards the barber’s shop. ‘That is a fine young horse of yours, but something raw in the mouth, eh?’
‘He is an accursed beast, the vermocane seize him!’ said Maestro Tacco, with a burst of irritation85, descending86 from his saddle and fastening the old bridle87, mended with string, to an iron staple88 in the wall. ‘Nevertheless,’ he added, recollecting89 himself, ‘a sound beast and a valuable, for one who wanted to purchase, and get a profit by training him. I had him cheap.’
‘Rather too hard riding for a man who carries your weight of learning: eh, Maestro?’ said Nello. ‘You seem hot.’
‘Truly, I am likely to be hot,’ said the doctor, taking off his bonnet, and giving to full view a bald low head and flat broad face, with high ears, wide lipless mouth, round eyes, and deep arched lines above the projecting eyebrows90, which altogether made Nello’s epithet91 ‘toad-faced’ dubiously92 complimentary93 to the blameless batrachian. ‘Riding from Peretola, when the sun is high, is not the same thing as kicking your heels on a bench in the shade, like your Florence doctors. Moreover, I have had not a little pulling to get through the carts and mules into the Mercato, to find out the husband of a certain Monna Ghita, who had had a fatal seizure94 before I was called in; and if it had not been that I had to demand my fees —’
‘Monna Ghita!’ said Nello, as the perspiring95 doctor interrupted himself to rub his head and face. ‘Peace be with her angry soul! The Mercato will want a whip the more if her tongue is laid to rest.’
Tito, who had roused himself from his abstraction, and was listening to the dialogue, felt a new rush of the vague half-formed ideas about Tessa, which had passed through his mind the evening before: if Monna Ghita were really taken out of the way, it would be easier for him to see Tessa again — whenever he wanted to see her.
‘Gnaffe, Maestro,’ Nello went on, in a sympathising tone, ‘you are the slave of rude mortals, who, but for you, would die like brutes96, without help of pill or powder. It is pitiful to see your learned lymph oozing97 from your pores as if it were mere vulgar moisture. You think my shaving will cool and disencumber you? One moment and I have done with Messer Francesco here. It seems to me a thousand years till I wait upon a man who carries all the science of Arabia in his head and saddle-bags. Ecco!’
Nello held up the shaving-cloth with an air of invitation, and Maestro Tacco advanced and seated himself under a preoccupation with his heat and his self-importance, which made him quite deaf to the irony98 conveyed in Nello’s officiously polite speech.
‘It is but fitting that a great medicus like you,’ said Nello, adjusting the cloth, ‘should be shaved by the same razor that has shaved the illustrious Antonio Benevieni, the greatest master of the chirurgic art.’
‘The chirurgic art!’ interrupted the doctor, with an air of contemptuous disgust. ‘Is it vour Florentine fashion to put the masters of the science of medicine on a level with men who do carpentry on broken limbs, and sew up wounds like tailors, and carve away excrescences as a butcher trims meat? Via! A manual art, such as any artificer might learn, and which has been practised by simple barbers like yourself — on a level with the noble science of Hippocrates, Galen, and Avicenna, which penetrates99 into the occult influences of the stars and plants and gems100! — a science locked up from the vulgar!’
‘No, in truth, Maestro,’ said Nello, using his lather very deliberately101, as if he wanted to prolong the operation to the utmost, ‘I never thought of placing them on a level: I know your science comes next to the miracles of Holy Church for mystery. But there, you see, is the pity of it’ — here Nello fell into a tone of regretful sympathy — ‘your high science is sealed from the profane102 and the vulgar, and so you become an object of envy and slander103. I grieve to say it, but there are low fellows in this city — mere sgherri, who go about in nightcaps and long beards, and make it their business to sprinkle gall in every man’s broth104 who is prospering105. Let me tell you — for you are a stranger — this is a city where every man had need carry a large nail ready to fasten on the wheel of Fortune when his side happens to be uppermost. Already there are stories — mere fables106 doubtless — beginning to be buzzed about concerning you, that make me wish I could hear of your being well on your way to Arezzo. I would not have a man of your metal stoned, for though San Stefano was stoned, he was not great in medicine like San Cosmo and San Damiano . . . ’
‘What stories? what fables?’ stammered107 Maestro Tacco. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Lasso! I fear me you are come into the trap for your cheese, Maestro. The fact is, there is a company of evil youths who go prowling about the houses of our citizens carrying sharp tools in their pockcts; — no sort of door, or window, or shutter108, but they will pierce it. They are possessed109 with a diabolical110 patience to watch the doings of people who fancy themselves private. It must be they who have done it — it must be they who have spread the stories about you and your medicines. Have you by chance detected any small aperture111 in your door, or window-shutter? No? Well, I advise you to look; for it is now commonly talked of that you have been seen in your dwelling at the Canto112 di Paglia, making your secret specifics by night: pounding dried toads113 in a mortar114, compounding a salve out of mashed115 worms, and making your pills from the dried livers of rats which you mix with saliva116 emitted during the utterance117 of a blasphemous118 incantation — which indeed these witnesses profess119 to repeat.’
‘It is a pack of lies!’ exclaimed the doctor, struggling to get utterance, and then desisting in alarm at the approaching razor.
‘It is not to me, or any of this respectable company, that you need to say that, doctor. We are not the heads to plant such carrots as those in. But what of that? What are a handful of reasonable men against a crowd with stones in their hands? There are those among us who think Cecco d’Ascoli was an innocent sage120 — and we all know how he was burnt alive for being wiser than his fellows. Ah, doctor, it is not by living at Padua that you can learn to know Florentines. My belief is, they would stone the Holy Father himself, if they could find a good excuse for it; and they are persuaded that you are a necromancer121, who is trying to raise the pestilence122 by selling secret medicines — and I am told your specifics have in truth an evil smell.’
‘It is false!’ burst out the doctor, as Nello moved away his razor; ‘it is false! I will show the pills and the powders to these honourable123 signori — and the salve — it has an excellent odour — an odour of — of salve.’ He started up with the lather on his chin, and the cloth round his neck, to search in his saddle-bag for the belied124 medicines, and Nello in an instant adroitly125 shifted the shaving-chair till it was in the close vicinity of the horse’s head, while Sandro, who had now returned, at a sign from his master placed himself near the bridle.
‘Behold, Messeri!’ said the doctor, bringing a small box of medicines and opening it before them. ‘Let any signor apply this box to his nostrils and he will find an honest odour of medicaments — not indeed of pounded gems, or rare vegetables from the East, or stones found in the bodies of birds; for I practise on the diseases of the vulgar, for whom heaven has provided cheaper and less powerful remedies according to their degree: and there are even remedies known to our science which are entirely126 free of cost — as the new tussis may be counteracted127 in the poor, who can pay for no specifics, by a resolute128 holding of the breath. And here is a paste which is even of savoury odour, and is infallible against melancholia, being concocted129 under the conjunction of Jupiter and Venus; and I have seen it allay130 spasms131.’
‘Stay, Maestro,’ said Nello, while the doctor had his lathered face turned towards the group near the door, eagerly holding out his box, and lifting out one specific after another; ‘here comes a crying contadina with her baby. Doubtless she is in search of you; it is perhaps an opportunity for you to show this honourable company a proof of your skill. Here, buona donna! here is the famous doctor. Why, what is the matter with the sweet bimbo?’
This question was addressed to a sturdy-looking, broad-shouldered contadina, with her head-drapery folded about her face so that little was to be seen but a bronzed nose and a pair of dark eyes and eyebrows. She carried her child packed up in a stiff mummy-shaped case in which Italian babies have been from time immemorial introduced into society, turning its face a little towards her bosom132, and making those sorrowful grimaces133 which women are in the habit of using as a sort of pulleys to draw down reluctant tears.
‘Oh, for the love of the Holy Madonna!’ said the woman, in a wailing134 voice; ‘will you look at my poor bimbo? I know I can’t pay you for it, but I took it into the Nunziata last night, and it’s turned a worse colour than before; it’s the convulsions. But when I was holding it before the Santissima Nunziata, I remembered they said there was a new doctor come who cured everything; and so I thought it might be the will of the Holy Madonna that I should bring it to you.’
‘Sit down, Maestro, sit down,’ said Nello. ‘Here is an opportunity for you; here are honourable witnesses who will declare before the Magnificent Eight that they have seen you practising honestly and relieving a poor woman’s child. And then if your life is in danger, the Magnificent Eight will put you in prison a little while just to insure your safety, and after that, their sbirri will conduct you out of Florence by night, as they did the zealous136 Frate Minore who preached against the Jews. What! our people are given to stone-throwing; but we have magistrates137.’
The doctor, unable to refuse, seated himself in the shaving-chair, trembling, half with fear and half with rage, and by this time quite unconscious of the lather which Nello had laid on with such profuseness138. He deposited his medicine-case on his knees, took out his precious spectacles (wondrous Florentine device!) from his wallet, lodged139 them carefully above his flat nose and high ears, and lifting up his brows, turned towards the applicant141.
‘O Santiddio! look at him,’ said the woman, with a more piteous wail135 than ever, as she held out the small mummy, which had its head completely concealed142 by dingy143 drapery wound round the head of the portable cradle, but seemed to be struggling and crying in a demoniacal fashion under this imprisonment145. ‘The fit is on him! Ohime! I know what colour he is; it’s the evil eye — oh!’
The doctor, anxiously holding his knees together to support his box, bent146 his spectacles towards the baby, and said cautiously, ‘It may be a new disease; unwind these rags, Monna! ’
The contadina, with sudden energy, snatched off the encircling linen, when out struggled — scratching, grinning, and screaming — what the doctor in his fright fully140 believed to be a demon144, but what Tito recognised as Vaiano’s monkey, made more formidable by an artificial blackness, such as might have come from a hasty rubbing up the chimney.
Up started the unfortunate doctor, letting his medicine-box fall, and away jumped the no less terrified and indignant monkey, finding the first resting-place for his claws on the horse’s mane, which he used as a sort of rope-ladder till he had fairly found his equilibrium147, when he continued to clutch it as a bridle. The horse wanted no spur under such a rider, and, the already loosened bridle offering no resistance, darted148 off across the piazza, with the monkey, clutching, grinning, and blinking, on his neck.
‘Il cavallo! Il Diavolo!’ was now shouted on all sides by the idle rascals149 who gathered from all quarters of the piazza, and was echoed in tones of alarm by the stall-keepers, whose vested interests seemed in some danger; while the doctor, out of his wits with confused terror at the Devil, the possible stoning, and the escape of his horse, took to his heels with spectacles on nose, lathered face, and the shaving-cloth about his neck, crying — ‘Stop him! stop him! for a powder — a florin — stop him for a florin!’ while the lads, outstripping150 him, clapped their hands and shouted encouragement to the runaway151.
The cerretano, who had not bargained for the flight of his monkey along with the horse, had caught up his petticoats with much celerity, and showed a pair of parti-coloured hose above his contadina’s shoes, far in advance of the doctor. And away went the grotesque152 race up the Corso degli Adimari — the horse with the singular jockey, the contadina with the remarkable153 hose, and the doctor in lather and spectacles, with furred mantle outflying.
It was a scene such as Florentines loved, from the potent154 and reverend signor going to council in his lucco, down to the grinning youngster, who felt himself master of all situations when his bag was filled with smooth stones from the convenient dry bed of the torrent. The grey-headed Domenico Cennini laughed no less heartily155 than the younger men, and Nello was triumphantly156 secure of the general admiration157.
‘Aha!’ he exclaimed, snapping his fingers when the first burst of laughter was subsiding158. ‘I have cleared my piazza of that unsavoury fly-trap, mi pare. Maestro Tacco will no more come here again to sit for patients than he will take to licking marble for his dinner.’
‘You are going towards the Piazza della Signoria, Messer Domenico,’ said Macchiavelli. ‘I will go with you, and we shall perhaps see who has deserved the palio among these racers. Come, Melema, will you go too?’
It had been precisely159 Tito’s intention to accompany Cennini, but before he had gone many steps, he was called back by Nello, who saw Maso approaching.
Maso’s message was from Romola. She wished Tito to go to the Via de’ Bardi as soon as possible. She would see him under the loggia, at the top of the house, as she wished to speak to him alone.
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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predilections
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| n.偏爱，偏好，嗜好( predilection的名词复数 ) | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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11
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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12
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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13
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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14
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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15
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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16
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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17
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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18
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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19
awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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20
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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21
lathered
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| v.（指肥皂）形成泡沫( lather的过去式和过去分词 )；用皂沫覆盖；狠狠地打 | |
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22
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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23
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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24
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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25
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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26
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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27
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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28
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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29
encumbered
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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31
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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32
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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33
obstructing
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| 阻塞( obstruct的现在分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
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34
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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35
inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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36
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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37
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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38
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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39
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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40
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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41
galls
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| v.使…擦痛( gall的第三人称单数 )；擦伤；烦扰；侮辱 | |
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42
gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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43
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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44
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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45
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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46
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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47
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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48
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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49
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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50
recurrence
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| n.复发，反复，重现 | |
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51
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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52
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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53
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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54
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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55
sneeringly
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| 嘲笑地，轻蔑地 | |
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56
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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57
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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58
orations
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| n.（正式仪式中的）演说，演讲( oration的名词复数 ) | |
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59
envoys
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| 使节( envoy的名词复数 )； 公使； 谈判代表； 使节身份 | |
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60
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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61
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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62
prophesies
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的第三人称单数 ) | |
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63
tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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64
impeached
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| v.控告（某人）犯罪( impeach的过去式和过去分词 )；弹劾；对（某事物）怀疑；提出异议 | |
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65
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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66
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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67
baubles
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| n.小玩意( bauble的名词复数 )；华而不实的小件装饰品；无价值的东西；丑角的手杖 | |
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68
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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69
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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70
prophesy
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| v.预言；预示 | |
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71
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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72
lackeys
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| n.听差( lackey的名词复数 )；男仆（通常穿制服）；卑躬屈膝的人；被待为奴仆的人 | |
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73
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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74
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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75
pickle
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|
| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
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76
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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77
sleek
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|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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78
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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79
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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80
oblique
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|
| adj.斜的，倾斜的，无诚意的，不坦率的 | |
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81
levies
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| （部队）征兵( levy的名词复数 )； 募捐； 被征募的军队 | |
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82
vends
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| v.出售（尤指土地等财产）( vend的第三人称单数 )；（尤指在公共场所）贩卖；发表（意见，言论）；声明 | |
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83
quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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84
greasy
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|
| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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85
irritation
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|
| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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86
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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87
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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88
staple
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|
| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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89
recollecting
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|
| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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90
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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91
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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92
dubiously
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|
| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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93
complimentary
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|
| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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94
seizure
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|
| n.没收；占有；抵押 | |
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95
perspiring
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|
| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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96
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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97
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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98
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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99
penetrates
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| v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 )；刺入；了解；渗透 | |
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100
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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101
deliberately
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|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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102
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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103
slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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104
broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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105
prospering
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的现在分词 ) | |
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106
fables
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| n.寓言( fable的名词复数 )；神话，传说 | |
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107
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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109
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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110
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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111
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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112
canto
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| n.长篇诗的章 | |
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113
toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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114
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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115
mashed
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| a.捣烂的 | |
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116
saliva
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| n.唾液，口水 | |
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117
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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118
blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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119
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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120
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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121
necromancer
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| n. 巫师 | |
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122
pestilence
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| n.瘟疫 | |
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123
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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124
belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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125
adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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126
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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127
counteracted
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| 对抗，抵消( counteract的过去式 ) | |
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128
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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129
concocted
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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130
allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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131
spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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132
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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133
grimaces
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| n.（表蔑视、厌恶等）面部扭曲，鬼脸( grimace的名词复数 )v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的第三人称单数 ) | |
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134
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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135
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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136
zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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137
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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138
profuseness
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| n.挥霍 | |
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139
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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140
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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141
applicant
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| n.申请人，求职者，请求者 | |
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142
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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143
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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144
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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145
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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146
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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147
equilibrium
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| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
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148
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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149
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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150
outstripping
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的现在分词 ) | |
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151
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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152
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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153
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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154
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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155
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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156
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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157
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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158
subsiding
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的现在分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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159
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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