“It is true,” said several voices at once.
“That means, the priests ought to lead better lives; there needs no miracle to prove that. That’s what the Frate has always been saying,” said the shoemaker.
“Flagellabitur,” Tito went on. “That is, it will be scourged. Renovabitur: it will be purified. Florentia quoque post flagellam renovabitur et prosperabitur: Florence also, after the scourging, shall be purified and shall prosper.”
“That means we are to get Pisa again,” said the shopkeeper.
“And get the wool from England as we used to do, I should hope,” said an elderly man, in an old-fashioned berretta, who had been silent till now. “There’s been scourging enough with the sinking of the trade.”
At this moment, a tall personage, surmounted by a red feather, issued from the door of the convent, and exchanged an indifferent glance with Tito; who, tossing his becchetto carelessly over his left shoulder, turned to his reading again, while the bystanders, with more timidity than respect, shrank to make a passage for Messer Dolfo Spini.
“Infideles convertentur ad Christum,” Tito went on. “That is, the infidels shall be converted to Christ.”
“Those are the Turks and the Moors. Well, I’ve nothing to say against that,” said the shopkeeper, dispassionately.
“Haec autem omnia erunt temporibus nostris: and all these things shall happen in our times.”
“Why, what use would they be else?” said Goro.