the slightly pinched look and the deepening of the eye-socket which indicate unusual fasting in the habitually temperate, and the large direct gaze of her hazel eyes was all the more impressive.
The man in the nightcap looked rather silly, and backed, thrusting his elbow into his neighbour’s ribs with an air of moral rebuke.
The backing was general, everyone wishing to imply that he had been pushed forward against his will; and the young man in the fine cloth tunic had disappeared.
But at this moment the armed servitors of the Signoria, who had begun to patrol the line of streets through which the procession was to pass, came up to disperse the group which was obstructing the narrow street. The man addressed as Cecco retreated from a threatening mace up the church-steps, and said to Romola, in a respectful tone—
“Madonna, if you want to go on your errands, I’ll take care of the old man.”
Cecco was