ping and praying as he worked, and the sight of them was
accepted by like simple-hearted Christians as a perpetual sacrament of
the eye, by which they received Christ into their souls.

So absorbed was the father in the contemplation of this picture, that he
did not hear the approaching footsteps of the knight and monk. When at
last they came so near as almost to touch him, he suddenly looked up,
and it became apparent that his eyes were full of tears.

He rose, and, pointing with a mute gesture toward the painting, said,--

"There is more in that than in all Michel Angelo Buonarotti hath done
yet, though he be a God-fearing youth,--more than in all the heathen
marbles in Lorenzo's gardens. But sit down with me here. I have to come
here often, where I can refresh my courage."

The monk and knight seated themselves, the latter with his attention
riveted on the remarkable man before him. The head and face of
Savonarola are familiar to us by many paintings and medallions, which,
however, fail to impart what must have been that effect of his personal
presence which so drew all hearts to him in his day. The knight saw a
man of middle age, of elastic, well-knit figure, and a flexibility
and grace of motion which seemed to make every nerve, even to his
finger-ends, vital with the expression of his soul. The close-shaven
crown and the plain white Dominican robe gave a severe and statuesque
simplicity to the lines of his figure. His head and face, like those
of most of the men of genius whom modern Italy has produced, were so
strongly cast in the antique mould as to leave no doubt of the identity
of modern Italian blood with that of the great men of ancient Italy. His
low, broad forehead, prominent Roman nose, well-cut, yet fully outlined
lips, and strong, finely moulded jaw and chin, all spoke the old Roman
vigor and energy, while the flexible delicacy of all the muscles of his
face and figure gave an inexpressible fascination to his appearance.
Every emotion and changing thought seemed to flutter and tremble over
his countenance as the shadow of leaves over sunny water. His eye had
a wonderful dilating power, and when he was excited seemed to shower
sparks; and his voice possessed a surprising scale of delicate and
melodious inflections, which could take him in a moment through the
whole range of human feeling, whether playful and tender or denunciatory
and terrible. Yet, when in repose among his friends, there was an almost