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The newcomer was a very large Coyote, half as tall again as Tito, and the dark patch on his shoulders was so large and black that the cow-boys when they came to know him, called him Saddleback. From that time these two continued more or less together. Yap-yap-yap-yow-wow-wow-wow-wow, and they would forgather for some foray on hand.
But Romola, who had the fact of the armour in her mind, and was penetrated by this strange coincidence of things which associated Tito with the idea of fear, went to his elbow and said "Don't put it away; let me look again. That man with the rope round his neck I saw him I saw you come to him in the Duomo. What was it that made you put him into a picture with Tito?"
It is an attempt to present Florence of the fifteenth century, to contrast Savonarola's ardent Christianity with the Greek aestheticism of the Medicis, and to show the influence of the time upon two widely different characters, Romola and Tito Melema. This novel is the greatest intellectual achievement of its author; but it has neither the warmth of life, nor the vigor of her English stories.
"Tito, it is not because I suppose Florence is the pleasantest place in the world that I desire not to quit it. It is because I because we have to see my father's wish fulfilled. My godfather is old; he is seventy-one; we could not leave it to him."
A man is afraid of the fire, because he believes it will burn him; but if he believes the contrary?" here Tito lifted his shoulders and made an oratorical pause "for which reason I have never been one to disbelieve the Frate, when he has said that he would enter the fire to prove his doctrine.
Tito had felt one great heart-leap of terror as he had staggered under the weight of the thrust: he felt now the triumph of deliverance and safety. His armour had been proved, and vengeance lay helpless before him. But the triumph raised no devilish impulse; on the contrary, the sight of his father close to him and unable to injure him, made the effort at reconciliation easier.
When increasing weakness compelled him to approach the shore he looked beseechingly to his father for mercy, but found only justice. With a wild and bitter cry Tito reaped his harvest. Soon the mud of that river filled the eyes and ears of him who years before had received defilement into his heart.
They are going to make a bonfire in the Piazza that's all. But I cannot let you go out by yourself in the evening." "Oh no, no! I don't want to go in the evening. I only want to go and see the procession by daylight. There will be a procession is it not true?" "Yes, after a sort," said Tito, "as lively as a flight of cranes. You must not expect roses and glittering kings and queens, my Tessa.
In an instant Tito had pushed his way through the barrier of bystanders, whose curiosity made them ready to turn aside at the sudden interference of this handsome young signor, had grasped Tessa's waist, and had said, "Loose this child! What right have you to hold her against her will?"
The new image of death; the strange bewildering doubt infused into her by the story of a life removed from her understanding and sympathy; the haunting vision, which she seemed not only to hear uttered by the low gasping voice, but to live through, as if it had been her own dream, had made her more conscious than ever that it was Tito who had first brought the warm stream of hope and gladness into her life, and who had first turned away the keen edge of pain in the remembrance of her brother.
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