Tessa was not come out sight-seeing without special leave. Tito had been with her the evening before, and she had kept back the entreaty which she felt to be swelling her heart and throat until she saw him in a state of radiant ease, with one arm round the sturdy Lillo, and the other resting gently on her own shoulder as she tried to make the tiny Ninna steady on her legs. She was sure then that the weariness with which he had come in and flung himself into his chair had quite melted away from his brow and lips. Tessa had not been slow at learning a few small stratagems by which she might avoid vexing Naldo and yet have a little of her own way. She could read nothing else, but she had learned to read a good deal in her husband’s face.
And certainly the charm of that bright, gentle-humoured Tito who woke up under the Loggia de’ Cerchi on a Lenten morning five years before, not having yet given any hostages to deceit, never returned so nearly as in the person of Naldo, seated in that straight-backed, carved arm-chair which he had provided for his comfort when he came to see Tessa and the children. Tito himself was surprised at the growing sense of relief which he felt in these moments. No guile was needed towards Tessa: she was too ignorant and too innocent to suspect him of anything. And the little voices calling him “Babbo” were very sweet in his ears for the short while that he heard them. When he thought of leaving Florence, he never thought of leaving Tessa and the little ones behind. He was very fond of these round-cheeked, wide-eyed human things that clung about him and knew no evil of him. And wherever affection can spring, it is like the green leaf and the blossom—pure, and breathing purity, whatever soil it may grow in. Poor Romola, with all her self-sacrificing effort, was really helping to harden Tito’s nature by chilling it with a positive dislike which had beforehand seemed impossible in him; but Tessa kept open the fountains of kindness.
“Ninna is very good without me now,” began Tessa, feeling her request rising very high in her throat, and letting Ninna seat herself on the floor. “I can leave her with Monna Lisa any time, and if she is in the cradle and cries, Lillo is as sensible as can be—he goes and thumps Monna Lisa.”
Lillo, whose great dark eyes looked all the darker because his curls were of a light-brown like his mother’s, jumped off Babbo’s knee, and went forthwith to attest his intelligence by thumping Monna Lisa, who was shaking her head slowly over her spinning at the other end of the room. “A wonderful boy!” said Tito, laughing. “Isn’t he?” said Tessa, eagerly, getting a little closer to him; “and I might go and see the Carnival to-morrow, just for an hour or two, mightn’t I?”
“Oh, you wicked pigeon!” said Tito, pinching her cheek; “those are your longings, are they? What have you to do with carnivals now you are an old woman with two children?”
“But old women like to see things,” said Tessa, her lower lip hanging a little. “Monna Lisa said she should like to go, only she’s so deaf she can’t hear what is behind her, and she thinks we couldn’t take care of both the children.”
“No, indeed, Tessa,” said Tito, looking rather grave, “you must not think of taking the children into the crowded streets, else I shall be angry.”
“But I have never been into the Piazza without leave,” said Tessa, in a frightened, pleading tone, “since the Holy Saturday, and I think Nofri is dead, for you know the poor madre died; and I shall never forget the Carnival I saw once; it was so pretty—all roses and a king and queen under them—and singing. I liked it better than the San Giovanni.”
“But there’s nothing like that now, my Tessa. They are going to make a bonfire in the Piazza—that’s all. But I cannot let you go out by yourself in the evening.”
“Oh no, no! I don’t want to go in the evening. I only want to go and see the procession by daylight. There will be a procession—is it not true?”