omola first looked from the
window--a long train of the Florentine youth, bearing high in the midst
of them the white image of the youthful Jesus, with a golden glory above
his head, standing by the tall cross where the thorns and the nails lay
ready.

After that train of fresh beardless faces came the mysterious-looking
Companies of Discipline, bound by secret rules to self-chastisement, and
devout praise, and special acts of piety; all wearing a garb which
concealed the whole head and face except the eyes. Every one knew that
these mysterious forms were Florentine citizens of various ranks, who
might be seen at ordinary times going about the business of the shop,
the counting-house, or the State; but no member now was discernible as
son, husband, or father. They had dropped their personality, and walked
as symbols of a common vow. Each company had its colour and its badge,
but the garb of all was a complete shroud, and left no expression but
that of fellowship.

In comparison with them, the multitude of monks seemed to be strongly
distinguished individuals, in spite of the common tonsure and the common
frock. First came a white stream of reformed Benedictines; and then a
much longer stream of the Frati Minori, or Franciscans, in that age all
clad in grey, with the knotted cord round their waists, and some of them
with the _zoccoli_, or wooden sandals, below their bare feet;--perhaps
the most numerous order in Florence, owning many zealous members who
loved mankind and hated the Dominicans. And after the grey came the
black of the Augustinians of San Spirito with more cultured human faces
above it--men who had inherited the library of Boccaccio, and had made
the most learned company in Florence when learning was rarer; then the
white over dark of the Carmelites; and then again the unmixed black of
the Servites, that famous Florentine order founded by seven merchants
who forsook their gains to adore the Divine Mother.

And now the hearts of all onlookers began to beat a little faster,
either with hatred or with love, for there was a stream of black and
white coming over the bridge--of black mantles over white scapularies;
and every one knew that the Dominicans were coming. Those of Fiesole
passed first. One black mantle parted by white after another, one
tonsured head after another, and still expectation was suspended. They
were very coarse mantles, all of them, and many were threadbare, if not
ragged; for th