as the Frate has informed us; and the incomparable Poliziano,
not two months since, gone to--well, well, let us hope he is not gone to
the eminent scholars in the Malebolge."

"By the way," said Francesco Cei, "have you heard that Camilla Rucellai
has outdone the Frate in her prophecies? She prophesied two years ago
that Pico would die in the time of lilies. He has died in November.
`Not at all the time of lilies,' said the scorners. `Go to!' says
Camilla; `it is the lilies of France I meant, and it seems to me they
are close enough under your nostrils.' I say, `Euge, Camilla!' If the
Frate can prove that any one of his visions has been as well fulfilled,
I'll declare myself a Piagnone to-morrow."

"You are something too flippant about the Frate, Francesco," said Pietro
Cennini, the scholarly. "We are all indebted to him in these weeks for
preaching peace and quietness, and the laying aside of party quarrels.
They are men of small discernment who would be glad to see the people
slipping the Frate's leash just now. And if the Most Christian King is
obstinate about the treaty to-day, and will not sign what is fair and
honourable to Florence, Fra Girolamo is the man we must trust in to
bring him to reason."

"You speak truth, Messer Pietro," said Nello; "the Frate is one of the
firmest nails Florence has to hang on--at least, that is the opinion of
the most respectable chins I have the honour of shaving. But young
Messer Niccolo was saying here the other morning--and doubtless
Francesco means the same thing--there is as wonderful a power of
stretching in the meaning of visions as in Dido's bull's hide. It seems
to me a dream may mean whatever comes after it. As our Franco Sacchetti
says, a woman dreams over-night of a serpent biting her, breaks a
drinking-cup the next day, and cries out, `Look you, I thought something
would happen--it's plain now what the serpent meant.'"

"But the Frate's visions are not of that sort," said Cronaca. "He not
only says what will happen--that the Church will be scourged and
renovated, and the heathens converted--he says it shall happen quickly.
He is no slippery pretender who provides loopholes for himself, he is--"

"What is this? what is this?" exclaimed Nello, jumping off the board,
and putting his head out at the door. "Here are people streaming into
the piazza, and shouting. Something must have happened in the Via
Larga. Aha!" he burst forth with delighted astonishmen