It needs not to tell in detail what history has told of that tragic night:  how the doors at last were forced, and the mob rushed in; how citizens and friends, and many of the monks themselves, their instinct of combativeness overcoming their spiritual beliefs, fought valiantly, and used torches and crucifixes for purposes little contemplated when they were made.

Fiercest among the combatants was Agostino, who three times drove back the crowd as they were approaching the choir, where Savonarola and his immediate friends were still praying.  Father Antonio, too, seized a sword from the hand of a fallen man and laid about him with an impetuosity which would be inexplicable to any who do not know what force there is in gentle natures when the objects of their affections are assailed.  The artist monk fought for his master with the blind desperation with which a woman fights over the cradle of her child.

All in vain!  Past midnight, and the news comes that artillery is planted to blow down the walls of the convent, and the magistracy, who up to this time have lifted not a finger to repress the tumult, send word to Savonarola to surrender himself to them, together with the two most active of his companions, Fra Domenico da Pescia and Fra Silvestro Maruffi, as the only means of averting the destruction of the whole order.  They offer him assurances of protection and safe return, which he does not in the least believe:  nevertheless, he feels that his hour is come, and gives himself up.

His preparations were all made with a solemn method which showed that he felt he was approaching the last act in the drama of life.  He called together his flock, scattered and forlorn, and gave them his last words of fatherly advice, encouragement, and comfort,—­ending with the remarkable declaration, “A Christian’s life consists in doing good and suffering evil.”  “I go with joy to this marriage-supper,” he said, as he left the church for the last sad preparations.  He and his doomed friends then confessed and received the sacrament, and after that he surrendered himself into the hands of the men who he felt in his prophetic soul had come to take him to torture and to death.

As he gave himself into their hands, he said, “I commend to your care this flock of mine, and these good citizens of Florence who have been with us”; and then once more turning to his brethren, said,—­“Doubt not, my brethren.  God will not fail to perfect His work.  Whether I live or die, He will aid and console you.”

At this moment there was a struggle with the attendants in the outer circle of the crowd, and the voice of Father Antonio was heard crying out earnestly,—­“Do not hold me!  I will go with him!  I must go with him!”—­“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.