e held to have saved the city
perhaps a thousand years before.

Here was the nucleus of the procession. Behind the relic came the
archbishop in gorgeous cope, with canopy held above him; and after him
the mysterious hidden Image--hidden first by rich curtains of brocade
enclosing an outer painted tabernacle, but within this, by the more
ancient tabernacle which had never been opened in the memory of living
men, or the fathers of living men. In that inner shrine was the image
of the Pitying Mother, found ages ago in the soil of L'Impruneta,
uttering a cry as the spade struck it. Hitherto the unseen Image had
hardly ever been carried to the Duomo without having rich gifts borne
before it. There was no reciting the list of precious offerings made by
emulous men and communities, especially of veils and curtains and
mantles. But the richest of all these, it was said, had been given by a
poor abbess and her nuns, who, having no money to buy materials, wove a
mantle of gold brocade with their prayers, embroidered it and adorned it
with their prayers, and, finally, saw their work presented to the
Blessed Virgin in the great Piazza by two beautiful youths who spread
out white wings and vanished in the blue.

But to-day there were no gifts carried before the tabernacle: no
donations were to be given to-day except to the poor. That had been the
advice of Fra Girolamo, whose preaching never insisted on gifts to the
invisible powers, but only on help to visible need; and altars had been
raised at various points in front of the churches, on which the
oblations for the poor were deposited. Not even a torch was carried.
Surely the hidden Mother cared less for torches and brocade than for the
wail of the hungry people. Florence was in extremity: she had done her
utmost, and could only wait for something divine that was not in her own
power.

The Frate in the torn mantle had said that help would certainly come,
and many of the faint-hearted were clinging more to their faith in the
Frate's word, than to their faith in the virtues of the unseen Image.
But there were not a few of the fierce-hearted who thought with secret
rejoicing that the Frate's word might be proved false.

Slowly the tabernacle moved forward, and knees were bent. There was
profound stillness; for the train of priests and chaplains from
L'Impruneta stirred no passion in the onlookers. The procession was
about to close with the Priors and the Gonfaloniere: t