e resolved, if possible,
to catch him on one of these journeys. 'It so chanced on the 28th of
February, which was the second Sunday of Lent, that having gone, as
was my wont, to pry out whether Lorenzo would give orders for going
abroad that day, I entered the shoemaker's shop, and stayed awhile,
until Lorenzo came to the window with a napkin round his neck for he
was combing his hair--and at the same moment I saw a certain Giovan
Battista Martelli, who kept his sword for the defence of Lorenzo's
person, enter and come forth again. Concluding that they would
probably go abroad, I went home to get ready and procure the necessary
weapons, and there I found Bebo asleep in bed, and made him get up at
once, and we came to our accustomed post of observation, by the church
of San Polo, where our men would have to pass.' Bibboni now retired to
his friend the shoemaker's, and Bebo took up his station at one of
the side-doors of San Polo; 'and, as good luck would have it, Giovan
Battista Martelli came forth, and walked a piece in front, and then
Lorenzo came, and then Alessandro Soderini, going the one behind the
other, like storks, and Lorenzo, on entering the church, and lifting
up the curtain of the door, was seen from the opposite door by Bebo,
who at the same time noticed how I had left the shop, and so we met
upon the street as we had agreed, and he told me that Lorenzo was
inside the church.'

To any one who knows the Campo di San Polo, it will be apparent that
Lorenzo had crossed from the western side of the piazza and entered
the church by what is technically called its northern door. Bebo,
stationed at the southern door, could see him when he pushed the heavy
_stoia_ or leather curtain aside, and at the same time could
observe Bibboni's movements in the cobbler's shop. Meanwhile Lorenzo
walked across the church and came to the same door where Bebo had been
standing. 'I saw him issue from the church and take the main street;
then came Alessandro Soderini, and I walked last of all; and when
we reached the point we had determined on, I jumped in front
of Alessandro with the poignard in my hand, crying, "Hold hard,
Alessandro, and get along with you in God's name, for we are not here
for you!" He then threw himself around my waist, and grasped my arms,
and kept on calling out. Seeing how wrong I had been to try to spare
his life, I wrenched myself as well as I could from his grip, and with
my lifted poignard struck him, as