And in the midst of us one Bardi Rose

Must be to grace and enjoy the spectacle,

The best that ever Florence saw!”

My boy,

Look not so startled! Those were bitter days,

I said, and blood had flowed and hearts grown hard,

And hatred is contagious as disease.

Cosmo, my brother, was but as the rest.

He died at nine, ere ever thou wast born,

And I have paid for masses for his soul,—