THE LAST SILENCE.
285
her now. He had mounted the steps; she could see him look round on the multitude.
But in the same moment expectation died, and she only saw what he was seeing—torches waving to kindle the fuel beneath his dead body, faces glaring with a yet worse light; she only heard what he was hearing—gross jests, taunts, and curses.
The moment was past. Her face was covered again, and she only knew that Savonarola's voice had passed into eternal silence.
