As he gave himself into their hands, he said, "I commend to your care
this flock of mine, and these good citizens of Florence who have been
with us"; and then once more turning to his brethren, said,--"Doubt not,
my brethren. God will not fail to perfect His work. Whether I live or
die, He will aid and console you."

At this moment there was a struggle with the attendants in the outer
circle of the crowd, and the voice of Father Antonio was heard crying
out earnestly,--"Do not hold me! I will go with him! I must go with
him!"--"Son," said Savonarola, "I charge you on your obedience not to
come. It is I and Frà Domenico who are to die for the love of Christ."
And thus, at the ninth hour of the night, he passed the threshold of San
Marco.

As he was leaving, a plaintive voice of distress was heard from a young
novice who had been peculiarly dear to him, who stretched his hands
after him, crying,--"Father! father! why do you leave us desolate?"
Whereupon he turned back a moment, and said,--"God will be your help.
If we do not see each other again in this world, we surely shall in
heaven."

When the party had gone forth, the monks and citizens stood looking into
each other's faces, listening with dismay to the howl of wild ferocity
that was rising around the departing prisoner.

"What shall we do?" was the outcry from many voices.

"I know what I shall do," said Agostino. "If any man here will find me a
fleet horse, I will start for Milan this very hour; for my uncle is now
there on a visit, and he is a counsellor of weight with the King of