ndrops.

Fra Girolamo's word was powerful; yet now that the new Cyrus had already
been three months in Italy, and was not far from the gates of Florence,
his presence was expected there with mixed feelings, in which fear and
distrust certainly predominated. At present it was not understood that
he had redressed any grievances; and the Florentines clearly had nothing
to thank him for. He held their strong frontier fortresses, which Piero
de' Medici had given up to him without securing any honourable terms in
return; he had done nothing to quell the alarming revolt of Pisa, which
had been encouraged by his presence to throw off the Florentine yoke;
and "orators," even with a prophet at their head, could win no assurance
from him, except that he would settle everything when he was once within
the walls of Florence. Still, there was the satisfaction of knowing
that the exasperating Piero de' Medici had been fairly pelted out for
the ignominious surrender of the fortresses, and in that act of energy
the spirit of the Republic had recovered some of its old fire.

The preparations for the equivocal guest were not entirely those of a
city resigned to submission. Behind the bright drapery and banners
symbolical of joy, there were preparations of another sort made with
common accord by government and people. Well hidden within walls there
were hired soldiers of the Republic, hastily called in from the
surrounding districts; there were old arms duly furbished, and sharp
tools and heavy cudgels laid carefully at hand, to be snatched up on
short notice; there were excellent boards and stakes to form barricades
upon occasion, and a good supply of stones to make a surprising hail
from the upper windows. Above all, there were people very strongly in
the humour for fighting any personage who might be supposed to have
designs of hectoring over them, they having lately tasted that new
pleasure with much relish. This humour was not diminished by the sight
of occasional parties of Frenchmen, coming beforehand to choose their
quarters, with a hawk, perhaps, on their left wrist, and, metaphorically
speaking, a piece of chalk in their right-hand to mark Italian doors
withal; especially as creditable historians imply that many sons of
France were at that time characterised by something approaching to a
swagger, which must have whetted the Florentine appetite for a little
stone-throwing.

And this was the temper of Florence on the morni