sions, dependent apparently on a
constitution given to somnambulism. Savonarola believed in the
supernatural character of these visions, while Fra Salvestro himself had
originally resisted such an interpretation of them, and had even rebuked
Savonarola for his prophetic preaching: another proof, if one were
wanted, that the relative greatness of men is not to be gauged by their
tendency to disbelieve the superstitions of their age. For of these two
there can be no question which was the great man and which the small.

The difference between them was measured very accurately by the change
in Romola's feeling as Fra Salvestro began to address her in words of
exhortation and encouragement. After her first angry resistance of
Savonarola had passed away, she had lost all remembrance of the old
dread lest any influence should drag her within the circle of fanaticism
and sour monkish piety. But now again, the chill breath of that dread
stole over her. It could have no decisive effect against the impetus
her mind had just received; it was only like the closing of the grey
clouds over the sunrise, which made her returning path monotonous and
sombre.

And perhaps of all sombre paths that on which we go back after treading
it with a strong resolution is the one that most severely tests the
fervour of renunciation. As they re-entered the city gates the light
snow-flakes fell about them; and as the grey sister walked hastily
homeward from the Piazza di San Marco, and trod the bridge again, and
turned in at the large door in the Via de' Bardi, her footsteps were
marked darkly on the thin carpet of snow, and her cowl fell laden and
damp about her face.

She went up to her room, threw off her serge, destroyed the parting
letters, replaced all her precious trifles, unbound her hair, and put on
her usual black dress. Instead of taking a long exciting journey, she
was to sit down in her usual place. The snow fell against the windows,
and she was alone.

She felt the dreariness, yet her courage was high, like that of a seeker
who has come on new signs of gold. She was going to thread life by a
fresh clue. She had thrown all the energy of her will into
renunciation. The empty tabernacle remained locked, and she placed
Dino's crucifix outside it.

Nothing broke the outward monotony of her solitary home, till the night
came like a white ghost at the windows. Yet it was the most memorable
Christmas-eve in her life to Romola,