a statue, fell
back on his bed, breathing a sigh so profound that one might have
supposed it was his last.
The monk glanced round the room as though to assure himself that he was
really alone with the dying man; then he advanced with a slow and solemn
step towards the bed. Lorenzo watched his approach with terror; then,
when he was close beside him, he cried:
"O my father, I have been a very great sinner!"
"The mercy of God is infinite," replied the monk; "and I come into your
presence laden with the divine mercy."
"You believe, then, that God will forgive my sins?" cried the dying man,
renewing his hope as he heard from the lips of the monk such unexpected
words.
"Your sins and also your crimes, God will forgive them all," replied
Savonarola. "God will forgive your vanities, your adulterous pleasures,
your obscene festivals; so much for your sins. God will forgive you for
promising two thousand florins reward to the man who should bring you the
head of Dietisalvi, Nerone Nigi, Angelo Antinori, Niccalo Soderini, and
twice the money if they were handed over alive; God will forgive you for
dooming to the scaffold or the gibbet the son of Papi Orlandi, Francesco
di Brisighella, Bernardo Nardi, Jacopo Frescobaldi, Amoretto
Baldovinetti, Pietro Balducci, Bernardo di Banding, Francesco
Frescobaldi, and more than three hundred others whose names were none the
less dear to Florence because they were less renowned; so much far your
crimes." And at each of these names which Savonarala pronounced slowly,
his eyes fixed on the dying man, he replied with a groan which proved the
monk's memory to be only too true. Then at last, when he had finished,
Lorenzo asked in a doubtful tone:
"Then do you believe, my father, that God will forgive me everything,
both my sins and my crimes?"
"Everything," said Savonarola, "but on three conditions."
"What are they?" asked the dying man.
"The first," said Savonarola, "is that you feel a complete faith in the
power and the mercy of God."
"My father," replied Lorenzo eagerly, "I feel this faith in the very
depths of my heart."
"The second," said Savonarola, "is that you give back the property of
others which you have unjustly confiscated and kept."
"My father, shall I have time?" asked the dying man.
"God will give it to you," replied the monk.
Lorenzo shut his eyes, as though to reflect more at his ease; then, after
a moment's silence, he replied:
"Yes, my f
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