enemies with the expectation of an
answer to be given through the medium of a more signal personage than
Fra Domenico. This good Frate in his flame-coloured cope was now
kneeling before the little altar on which the Sacrament was deposited,
awaiting his summons.

On the Franciscan side of the Loggia there was no chanting and no
flame-colour: only silence and greyness. But there was this
counterbalancing difference, that the Franciscans had two champions: a
certain Fra Giuliano was to pair with Fra Domenico, while the original
champion, Fra Francesco, confined his challenge to Savonarola.

"Surely," thought the men perched uneasily on the rods and pillars, "all
must be ready now. This chanting might stop, and we should see better
when the Frati are moving towards the platform."

But the Frati were not to be seen moving yet. Pale Franciscan faces
were looking uneasily over the boarding at that flame-coloured cope. It
had an evil look and might be enchanted, so that a false miracle would
be wrought by magic. Your monk may come whole out of the fire, and yet
it may be the work of the devil.

And now there was passing to and fro between the Loggia and the marble
terrace of the Palazzo, and the roar of chanting became a little
quieter, for every one at a distance was beginning to watch more
eagerly. But it soon appeared that the new movement was not a
beginning, but an obstacle to beginning. The dignified Florentines
appointed to preside over this affair as moderators on each side, went
in and out of the Palace, and there was much debate with the
Franciscans. But at last it was clear that Fra Domenico, conspicuous in
his flame-colour, was being fetched towards the Palace. Probably the
fire had already been kindled--it was difficult to see at a distance--
and the miracle was going to begin.

Not at all. The flame-coloured cope disappeared within the Palace; then
another Dominican was fetched away; and for a long while everything went
on as before--the tiresome chanting, which was not miraculous, and Fra
Girolamo in his white vestment standing just in the same place. But at
last something happened: Fra Domenico was seen coming out of the Palace
again, and returning to his brethren. He had changed all his clothes
with a brother monk, but he was guarded on each flank by a Franciscan,
lest coming into the vicinity of Savonarola he should be enchanted
again.

"Ah, then," thought the distant spectators, a little