Filipepi turned to his white-faced
companion. "Well, Estasia," he whispered with a faint, righteously vindictive
smile. "Are you listening? Do you hear what Fra Savonarola says? Do you realize
that it is your soul he speaks of?"
Estasia made a gesture as if to ward off a blow. "Don't."
"You build up wealth in the world," Savonarola shouted out his warning, "you
gather treasures around you in the heat of your Avarice. Possessions are as a
malignant disease consuming you. But what is the wealth of the world compared to
the riches of heaven, the goods of the Celestial Kingdom? How cheaply you sell
your souls. How you will lament your bargains in the next life when all the
magnificence of Paradise is denied you for this pale, trivial imitation."
The congregation moaned aloud, caught up in Savonarola's terrible vision.
They leaned farther forward, their faces wet, their eyes full of hungry
suffering, and they yearned for more, for the release of the monk's castigation.
He did not disappoint them. "I am amazed," he said in another tone, humility
making him bow his head. "I am amazed that God has resisted for so long
delivering His final blow. We know that the Day of Wrath will surely come, for
it has been prophesied from the beginning. We know that on that terrible day, no
one will be safe and even the virtuous will plead for mercy before the Throne of
God. There is a book, and that book will be read on that day, and every sin,
every loathsome thing you have ever done or felt or thought will be known. Think
of that. Keep this thought in your heart, if only for one day, so that true
repentance may come into your heart, so that you, like Job, will know the full
extent of your vileness. Then, only then, will you be saved. You must repent!"
The congregation took up the cry. "Repent!"
"Weep! Weep for your sins! Weep for the thousands who will be flung forever
into the heinous pits of hell. Weep for those still benighted and filled with
the dung of sin!"
Several people cried out, and many sobbed. Simone grabbed Estasia's wrist and
said, "Do you see? Do you understand now? You must repent! You must give up your
lovers and your luxuries. Otherwise you will burn in hell and demons will
consume your entrails."
"Simone! Let go!" Estasia had risen, and with an expression of horrified
revulsion she fled the church, not even stopping to pull the hood of her cloak
over her head against the pelting rain.
Simone started after her, but could not bring himself to leave San Marco
while his hero preached. He stood at the back, a rapt smile lightening the tears
that flowed from his eyes. He felt abjectly vile, utterly disgusting, and at the
same time a smug contentment colored this. He sank to his knees, his hands
clasped in prayer as he listened.
"The Sword of God is raised high and it will smite the wicked and corrupt,
and even the chaste, the virtuous and the just will be brought low. For who will
save you on that day, if not God? Where can you turn, but to God? Supplicate,
beg, plead on your knees for His forgiveness. You must do it now. There is no
time left, for that Day of Wrath is near. I have seen it. I have seen the Sword
of God descend on mankind and ravage everywhere. I have seen the world fall
apart and beasts trample on its dust. Hear me, Fiorenzeni! You must repent. You
can save yourselves if you repent. Cast out the evils and sins in your lives,
return to the embrace of the Church and goodness! You must do it!"
The shout which greeted this made San Marco ring like a bell.
"Rise up in virtue and strike down the impious heathens! The red balls will
fall. No more Palle! Strike at the head of the evil!"
This time the shout was louder and many of the people were on their feet.
"It is your glorious task to make the first blow. Let there be an end to all
sin! No more Anger! No more Sloth! No more Lust! No more Gluttony! No more
Avarice! No more Envy! No more Vanity!
No more Vanity
!"
With a
companion. "Well, Estasia," he whispered with a faint, righteously vindictive
smile. "Are you listening? Do you hear what Fra Savonarola says? Do you realize
that it is your soul he speaks of?"
Estasia made a gesture as if to ward off a blow. "Don't."
"You build up wealth in the world," Savonarola shouted out his warning, "you
gather treasures around you in the heat of your Avarice. Possessions are as a
malignant disease consuming you. But what is the wealth of the world compared to
the riches of heaven, the goods of the Celestial Kingdom? How cheaply you sell
your souls. How you will lament your bargains in the next life when all the
magnificence of Paradise is denied you for this pale, trivial imitation."
The congregation moaned aloud, caught up in Savonarola's terrible vision.
They leaned farther forward, their faces wet, their eyes full of hungry
suffering, and they yearned for more, for the release of the monk's castigation.
He did not disappoint them. "I am amazed," he said in another tone, humility
making him bow his head. "I am amazed that God has resisted for so long
delivering His final blow. We know that the Day of Wrath will surely come, for
it has been prophesied from the beginning. We know that on that terrible day, no
one will be safe and even the virtuous will plead for mercy before the Throne of
God. There is a book, and that book will be read on that day, and every sin,
every loathsome thing you have ever done or felt or thought will be known. Think
of that. Keep this thought in your heart, if only for one day, so that true
repentance may come into your heart, so that you, like Job, will know the full
extent of your vileness. Then, only then, will you be saved. You must repent!"
The congregation took up the cry. "Repent!"
"Weep! Weep for your sins! Weep for the thousands who will be flung forever
into the heinous pits of hell. Weep for those still benighted and filled with
the dung of sin!"
Several people cried out, and many sobbed. Simone grabbed Estasia's wrist and
said, "Do you see? Do you understand now? You must repent! You must give up your
lovers and your luxuries. Otherwise you will burn in hell and demons will
consume your entrails."
"Simone! Let go!" Estasia had risen, and with an expression of horrified
revulsion she fled the church, not even stopping to pull the hood of her cloak
over her head against the pelting rain.
Simone started after her, but could not bring himself to leave San Marco
while his hero preached. He stood at the back, a rapt smile lightening the tears
that flowed from his eyes. He felt abjectly vile, utterly disgusting, and at the
same time a smug contentment colored this. He sank to his knees, his hands
clasped in prayer as he listened.
"The Sword of God is raised high and it will smite the wicked and corrupt,
and even the chaste, the virtuous and the just will be brought low. For who will
save you on that day, if not God? Where can you turn, but to God? Supplicate,
beg, plead on your knees for His forgiveness. You must do it now. There is no
time left, for that Day of Wrath is near. I have seen it. I have seen the Sword
of God descend on mankind and ravage everywhere. I have seen the world fall
apart and beasts trample on its dust. Hear me, Fiorenzeni! You must repent. You
can save yourselves if you repent. Cast out the evils and sins in your lives,
return to the embrace of the Church and goodness! You must do it!"
The shout which greeted this made San Marco ring like a bell.
"Rise up in virtue and strike down the impious heathens! The red balls will
fall. No more Palle! Strike at the head of the evil!"
This time the shout was louder and many of the people were on their feet.
"It is your glorious task to make the first blow. Let there be an end to all
sin! No more Anger! No more Sloth! No more Lust! No more Gluttony! No more
Avarice! No more Envy! No more Vanity!
No more Vanity
!"
With a
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