When the procession reached the Piazza there was found to be a great eight-sided pyramid there, built up in the centre of the square and reaching near as high as the Palace of the Signori; there were seven stages to this, one for each of the deadly sins. On the apex stood two grotesque and glittering figures, robed in gemmed satin and wearing high-coloured crowns; one was King Carnival, the old monarch of the wanton Medicean orgies; and in his monstrous, under-jawed face and princely garb, in his straight heavy locks and the velvet cap under the circlet of sovereignty, might be traced a malicious likeness to the magnificent Lorenzo, purposely contrived by the artificer as an affront to the banished House. The other figure was Lucifer, horned, black, and hideous, bearing in the lap of his scarlet robes seven little images representing the seven mortal sins. The procession paused; the men and women arranging themselves under the Loggia de’ Lanzi and along the Pinghiera, while the children advanced two at a time, and deposited their loads on the various platforms, where the soldiers of the Signori arranged them in piles from the bottom to the base of the pyramid. So much had been collected, so many and various were the costly offerings, that several hours passed before the final vanity was cast on to the heap and the children retired to a great circle round the Piazza; but all this while there had been no sign of weariness or impatience on the part of the people, who continued with great spirit and gladness to sing their lauds and hymns, mingled with denunciations of the Carnival. Frà Girolamo stood back from the pile with his hands folded in the sleeves of his robe; his face was largely concealed by the shadow of his hood, which he had partially drawn forward, and he conveyed neither by word nor gesture fanatic rejoicing or common triumph. Rather was his mien sad and grave, as if he weighed what was being done and pondered on that far greater cleansing of Florence of which this was but a symbol–the cleansing of the hearts of her citizens. Truly when the last child cast down his burden and withdrew, it was a marvellous sight of worldly splendour to behold; all these gauds and glories cast together in this heap under the calm spring sky, half in the shadow of the palace and other noble buildings and half sparkling and glittering in the clear gold of the early sunshine, fainting in the approach of afternoon. Rich and valuable were these vanities, worth many thousands of ducats; a merchant of Venice had offered to buy them for the vast sum of twenty thousand crowns, and the portrait of this man was flung on top of the other baubles.