towards Tito was forgotten.
“Possibly,” said Tito, also rising, “your own intention may have anticipated what I was going to say. You are thinking of the Frate.”
“I am,” said Romola, looking at him with surprise. “Has he done anything? Is there anything to tell me?”
“Only this. It was Messer Francesco Valori’s bitterness and violence which chiefly determined the course of things in the council today. Half the men who gave in their opinion against the prisoners were frightened into it, and there are numerous friends of Fra Girolamo both in this Special Council and out of it who are strongly opposed to the sentence of death—Piero Guicciardini, for example, who is one member of the Signoria that made the stoutest resistance; and there is Giovan Battista Ridolfi, who, Piagnone as he is, will not lightly forgive the death of his brother Niccolò.”
“But how can the Appeal be denied,” said Romola, indignantly, “when it is the law—when it was one of the chief glories of the popular government to have passed the law?”
“They call this an exceptional case. Of course there are ingenious arguments, but there is much more of loud bluster about the danger of the Republic. But, you see, no opposition could prevent the assembly from being prorogued, and a certain powerful influence rightly applied during the next three days might determine the wavering courage of those who desire that the Appeal should be granted, and might even give a check to the headlong enmity of Francesco Valori. It happens to have come to my knowledge that the Frate has so far interfered as to send a message to him in favour of Lorenzo Tornabuoni. I know you can sometimes have access to the Frate: it might at all events be worth while to use your privilege now.”