among the Italian
States, and an interdict on their city, there inevitably came the
question, "What miracle showest thou?" Slowly at first, then faster and
faster, that fatal demand had been swelling in Savonarola's ear,
provoking a response, outwardly in the declaration that at the fitting
time the miracle would come; inwardly in the faith--not unwavering, for
what faith is so?--that if the need for miracle became urgent, the work
he had before him was too great for the Divine power to leave it
halting. His faith wavered, but not his speech: it is the lot of every
man who has to speak for the satisfaction of the crowd, that he must
often speak in virtue of yesterday's faith, hoping it will come back
to-morrow.

It was in preparation for a scene which was really a response to the
popular impatience for some supernatural guarantee of the Prophet's
mission, that the wooden pulpit had been erected above the church-door.
But while the ordinary Frati in black mantles were entering and
arranging themselves, the faces of the multitude were not yet eagerly
directed towards the pulpit: it was felt that Savonarola would not
appear just yet, and there was some interest in singling out the various
monks, some of them belonging to high Florentine families, many of them
having fathers, brothers, or cousins among the artisans and shopkeepers
who made the majority of the crowd. It was not till the tale of monks
was complete, not till they had fluttered their books and had begun to
chant, that people said to each other, "Fra Girolamo must be coming
now."

That expectation rather than any spell from the accustomed wail of
psalmody was what made silence and expectation seem to spread like a
paling solemn light over the multitude of upturned faces, all now
directed towards the empty pulpit.

The next instant the pulpit was no longer empty. A figure covered from
head to foot in black cowl and mantle had entered it, and was kneeling
with bent head and with face turned away. It seemed a weary time to the
eager people while the black figure knelt and the monks chanted. But
the stillness was not broken, for the Frate's audiences with Heaven were
yet charged with electric awe for that mixed multitude, so that those
who had already the will to stone him felt their arms unnerved.

At last there was a vibration among the multitude, each seeming to give
his neighbour a momentary aspen-like touch, as when men who have been
watching for so