other."

So saying, the good-hearted artist left the cell, and Agostino said,--

"I bring tidings to you of your kindred. Your niece and sister are here
in Florence, and would see you. You will find them at the house of one
Gherardo Rosselli, a rich citizen of noble blood."

"Why are they there?" said the monk, lost in amazement.

You must know, then, that a most singular discovery hath been made
by your niece at Rome. The sister of her father, being a lady of the
princely blood of Colonna, hath been assured of her birth by the
confession of the priest that married him; and being driven from Rome by
fear of the Borgias, they came hither under my escort, and wait to see
you. So, if you will come with me now, I will guide you to them."

"Even so," said Father Antonio.

CHAPTER XXXI.

MARTYRDOM.

In a shadowy chamber of a room overlooking the grand square of Florence
might be seen, on the next morning, some of the principal personages of
our story. Father Antonio, Baccio della Porta, Agostino Sarelli, the
Princess Paulina, Agnes, with her grandmother, and mixed crowd of
citizens and ecclesiastics who all spoke in hushed and tremulous voices,
as men do in the chamber of mourners at a funeral. The great, mysterious
bell of the Campanile was swinging with dismal, heart-shaking toll, like
a mighty voice from the spirit-world; and it was answered by the
tolling of all the bells in the city, making such wavering clangors and
vibrating circles in the air over Florence that it might seem as if it
were full of warring spirits wrestling for mastery.

Toll! toll! toll! O great bell of the fair Campanile! for this day the
noblest of the wonderful men of Florence is to offered up. Toll! for an
era is going out,--the era of her artists, her statesmen, her poets, and
her scholars. Toll! for an era is coming in,--the era of her disgrace
and subjugation and misfortune!

The stepping of the vast crowd in the square was like the patter of a
great storm, and the hum of voices rose up like the murmur of the ocean;
but in the chamber all was so still that one could have heard the
dropping of a pin.

Under the balcony of this room were seated in pomp and state the Papal
commissioners, radiant in gold and scarlet respectability; and Pilate
and Herod, on terms of the most excellent friendship, were ready to act
over again the part they had acted fourteen hundred years by before. Now
has arrived the moment when the three followers