It cannot perhaps be said that the attention of the young nobleman was not sometimes diverted from the office in which he came to take part; but there was a soothing influence in the music, and a still more comforting balm in the very act of prayer. They who reject religion little know the strength and the consolation, the vigour and the assurance which is derived even from the acknowledgment of our dependence upon a Being whom we know to be all-powerful and all-good--how we can dare all, and endure all, and feel comfort in all when we raise our hearts in faith to him who can do all for us. How often in the course of each man's life has he to say--and oh! with what different feelings and in what different circumstances is it said--"Help, Lord, I sink!" Nor is it ever said without some consolation; nor is it ever asked but it is granted--ay, some help is granted, either in strength, or in resolution, or in patience, or in deliverance. The fearful exclamation might show some want of faith in him who had been eye-witness to a thousand miracles, but with us it shows some faith also. We call upon whom we know to be able to help, and in the hour of adversity or the moment of peril we remember the Lord our God, and put our last, best trust in Him. CHAPTER XXXI. Lorenzo had mounted the many steps leading to the top of the belfry of the church, and there, with the old monk who was keeping watch, he gazed over the beautiful valley of the Arno. High--high up in the air he stood, far above the rocks and treetops, with the whole country round, as it were, mapped out before him. The sun was rapidly nearing the horizon, and there was that undefinable transparent purple in the atmosphere which in Italy precedes, for nearly an hour, the shades of night; but yet all was still clear and bright, and the various objects in the landscape could be distinguished perhaps more sharply than in the full light of day. "There they go," said the old monk who was on watch, pointing with his hand in the direction of the mountains. "They have a good guess that the people of Florence would not have them here much longer, and so they are taking themselves away." Lorenzo turned his eye in the direction to which the monk pointed, and saw, winding along the mountain road to San Miniato, a long troop of horse, evidently the same which had been ranging the Valley of the Arno. He watched them over the several undulations of ground, now disappearing, now rising again into sight, till at length the foremost horseman reached the gap over the farthest hill in view, and one by one they passed out of the range of vision, except a small party which lingered for a moment or two on the side of the hill, as if taking a survey of the country they were leaving, and then, following their companions, disappeared. "I must go down and tell the prior," said the monk; "but I may as well ring the bell as I go, to let the people of the country know they are gone."