On my way home from this terrible scene, I fell upon a procession of
monks. They were carrying images and relics, and a banner upon which
were inscribed these words: "The Virgin Mary, Mother of God." As they
marched on, their number increased by new additions. But suddenly they
encountered another band of monks, carrying a different banner,
bearing the same words which were on the other party's banner, but
instead of "The Virgin Mary, Mother of God," their banner read: "The
Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus Christ." The two processions clashed, and
a bloody encounter followed; in an instant images, relics and banners
were all in an indiscriminate heap. The troops were called out again,
but such was the zeal of the conflicting parties that not until the
majority of them were disabled and exhausted, was tranquility
restored.

Looking about me, I saw the spire of a neighboring church. My
curiosity prompted me to wend my steps thither. As soon as I entered,
I was recognized as belonging to the forbidden sect, and in an instant
a hundred fists rained down blows upon my head. "He has polluted the
sanctuary," they cried. "He has committed sacrilege." "No quarter to
the enemies of the true church," cried others, and it was a miracle
that, beaten, bruised, my clothes torn from my back, I regained the
street. A few seconds later, looking up the streets, I saw another
troop of soldiers, rushing down toward this church at full speed. It
seems that while I was being beaten in the main auditorium, in the
baptistry of the church they were killing, in cold blood, the
Archbishop, who was suspected of a predilection for the opposite
party, and who had refused to retract or resign from his office. The
next day I heard that one hundred and thirty-seven bodies were taken
out of this building.