"Son," said Savonarola, "I charge you on your obedience not to come. It is I and Fra 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 counselor of weight with the King of France: we must get the King to interfere."
"Good! good! good!" rose from a hundred voices.
"I will go with you," said Father Antonio. "I shall have no rest till I do something."
"And I," quoth Jacopo Niccolini, "will saddle for you, without delay, two horses of part Arabian blood, swift of foot, and easy, and which will travel day and night without sinking."