“If it were not that an adhesion to the popular side is necessary to your safety as an agent of our party, Tito mio,” said Giannozzo Pucci, who was more fraternal and less patronising in his manner than Tornabuoni, “I could have wished your skill to have been employed in another way, for which it is still better fitted. But now we must look out for some other man among us who will manage to get into the confidence of our sworn enemies, the Arrabbiati; we need to know their movements more than those of the Frate’s party, who are strong enough to play aboveboard. Still, it would have been a difficult thing for you, from your known relations with the Medici a little while back, and that sort of kinship your wife has with Bernardo del Nero. We must find a man who has no distinguished connections, and who has not yet taken any side.”
Tito was pushing his hair backward automatically, as his manner was, and looking straight at Pucci with a scarcely perceptible smile on his lip.
“No need to look out for anyone else,” he said, promptly. “I can manage the whole business