Another lap

On our daily walking route, which is shrinking gradually, with occasional bursts of energy; along the lake and down to the gym and back; and on to another week. Eliot's Daniel Deronda is holding me fast, and I managed to zip out and find yet another novel of hers, Romola, about which she wrote:"There is no book of mine about which I more thoroughly feel that I swear by every sentence as having been written with my best blood." The jacket blurb describes it as "...amongst her most colourful, fluent and persuasive works. In it she recreates the upheavals of fifteenth-century Florence: the time of the expulsion of the Medici, the invasion by Charles VIII of France and the ascendency and fall of Savonarola. Living in the city-state at the time is the noble and courageous Romola, who finds herself increasingly disillusioned by Savonarola's career and repelled by her unscrupulous and self-indulgent husband, Tito Melma."
Geeze, those "Sopranos" types have quite a long history...