t this news the people calmed down, in the hope of being
compensated at last for their long wait; but at that very moment a storm
which had long been threatening brake over Florence with such fury that
the faggots which had just been lighted were extinguished by the rain,
leaving no possibility of their rekindling. From the moment when the
people suspected that they had been fooled, their enthusiasm was changed
into derision. They were ignorant from which side the difficulties had
arisen that had hindered the trial, so they laid the responsibility
on both champions without distinction. The Signoria, foreseeing the
disorder that was now imminent, ordered the assembly to retire; but the
assembly thought otherwise, and stayed on the piazza, waiting for the
departure of the two champions, in spite of the fearful rain that still
fell in torrents. Rondinelli was taken back amid shouts and hootings,
and pursued with showers of stones. Savonarola, thanks to his sacred
garments and the host which he still carried, passed calmly enough
through the midst of the mob--a miracle quite as remarkable as if he had
passed through the fire unscathed.

But it was only the sacred majesty of the host that had protected this
man, who was indeed from this moment regarded as a false prophet: the
crowd allowed Savonarola to return to his convent, but they regretted
the necessity, so excited were they by the Arrabbiati party, who
had always denounced him as a liar and a hypocrite. So when the next
morning, Palm Sunday, he stood up in the pulpit to explain his conduct,
he could not obtain a moment's silence for insults, hooting, and
loud laughter. Then the outcry, at first derisive, became menacing:
Savonarola, whose voice was too weak to subdue the tumult, descended
from his pulpit, retired into the sacristy, and thence to his convent,
where he shut himself up in his cell. At that moment a cry was heard,
and was repeated by everybody present:

"To San Marco, to San Marco!" The rioters, few at first, were recruited
by all the populace as they swept along the streets, and at last reached
the convent, dashing like an angry sea against the wall.

The doors, closed on Savonarala's entrance, soon crashed before the
vehement onset of the powerful multitude, which struck down on the
instant every obstacle it met: the whole convent was quickly flooded
with people, and Savonarola, with his two confederates, Domenico
Bonvicini and Silvestro Maruffi, was a