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Updated: June 29, 2025
For the first time in her life she felt alone in the presence of the earth and sky, with no human presence interposing and making a law for her. Suddenly a voice close to her said "You are Romola de' Bardi, the wife of Tito Melema." She knew the voice: it had vibrated through her more than once before; and because she knew it, she did not turn round or look up.
A little subdued questioning and answering went on between them, while Tito touched the lute in a preluding way to the strain of the chorus, and there was a confusion of speech and musical humming all round the table. Bernardo Rucellai had said, "Wait a moment, Melema;" but the words had been unheard by Tito, who was leaning towards Pucci, and singing low to him the phrases of the Maenad-chorus.
Even women, who understand men so well for practical purposes, do not know them well enough for the purposes of art. Take even the very best of their male creations, take Tito Melema, for instance, and you will find he has an equivocal air, and every now and again remembers he has a comb at the back of his head.
Shakspere does not show the inner springs of the fall of Macbeth or Angelo so clearly as she shows the catastrophe of Arthur Donnithorne, of Tito Melema, of Gwendolen Harleth. Readers from whom the threat of hell would fall off as an old wife's tale, feel the dark power of reality in the mischief which dogs each of her wrong-doers.
"In truth, Melema," Tornabuoni was saying at this stage, laying one hose-clad leg across the knee of the other, and caressing his ankle, "I know of no man in Florence who can serve our party better than you.
In 'Iris' more particularly we have put before us the figure of a gentle and kindly creature of compelling personal charm, but weak of will and moving thru life along the line of least resistance a feminine counterpart of the Tito Melema etched with such appalling veracity in 'Romola. And Mr.
At all events it was agreed that there had been enough of gravity, and Rucellai had just ordered new flasks of Montepulciano. "How many minstrels are there among us?" he said, when there had been a general rallying round the table. "Melema, I think you are the chief: Matteo will give you the lute."
"He is certainly an ill-looking fellow," said Tornabuoni. "And you say he has attempted your life already, Melema?" And the talk turned on the various forms of madness, and the fierceness of the southern blood. If the seeds of conjecture unfavourable to Tito had been planted in the mind of any one present, they were hardly strong enough to grow without the aid of much daylight and ill-will.
Why should Ser Ceccone like Melema any the better for doing him favours? Doubtless the suave secretary had his own ends to serve; and what right had he to the superior position which made it possible for him to show favour? But since he had tuned his voice to flattery, Ser Ceccone would pitch his in the same key, and it remained to be seen who would win at the game of outwitting.
"Tito Melema, aged twenty-three, with a dark, beautiful face, long dark curls, the brightest smile, and a large onyx ring on his right forefinger." Tito did not look at the friar, but tremblingly broke open the bit of parchment. Inside, the words were "I am sold for a slave: I think they are going to take me to Antioch. The gems alone will serve to ransom me."
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