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A young Florentine woman’s life is buffeted by betrayal in love and upheaval in religion.

Page 81 of 765
Table of Contents

VI

“but I have resided both at Constantinople and Thessalonica, and have travelled in various parts little visited by Western Christians since the triumph of the Turkish arms. I should tell you, however, Messere, that I was not born in Greece, but at Bari. I spent the first sixteen years of my life in Southern Italy and Sicily.”

While Tito was speaking, some emotion passed, like a breath on the waters, across Bardo’s delicate features; he leaned forward, put out his right-hand towards Romola, and turned his head as if about to speak to her; but then, correcting himself, turned away again, and said, in a subdued voice⁠—

“Excuse me; is it not true⁠—you are young?”

“I am three-and-twenty,” said Tito.

“Ah,” said Bardo, still in a tone of subdued excitement, “and you had, doubtless, a father who cared for your early instruction⁠—who, perhaps, was himself a scholar?”

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