Being taken to his cell he repeated all he had said against the Pope, and called aloud, "Lord Jesus, pardon me that I forsook thy truth--it was the torture--I now repeat all I ever said from my pulpit--Lord Jesus, pardon!" Again he was taken to the torture-chamber and all was gone over as before. He and his two companions were now formally condemned to death and their day of execution set. To know the worst is peace--it is uncertainty that kills. A great calm came over Savonarola--he saw the gates of Heaven opening for him. He was able now to sleep and eat. The great brown eyes beamed with love and benediction, and his hands were raised only in blessing to friend and foe alike. The day of execution came, and the Piazza Signoria was filled with a vast concourse of people. Every spare foot of space was taken. Platforms had been erected and seats sold for fabulous prices. Every window was filled with faces. An elevated walk had been built out from the second story of the prison to the executioner's platform. From this high scaffold rose a great cross with ropes and chains dangling from the arms. Below were piled high heaps of fagots, saturated with oil. There was a wild exultant yell from the enemies of the men on their appearance, but others of their adversaries appeared dazed at their success, and it seemed for a few moments as if pity would take the place of hate, and the mob would demand the release of the men. The prisoners walked firmly and conversed in undertone, encouraging each other to stand firm. Each held a crucifix and pressed it to his lips, repeating the creed. Halfway across to the gibbet, they were stopped, the crucifixes torn from their hands, and their priestly robes stripped from them. There they stood, clad only in scant underclothes, in sight of the mob that seethed and mocked. Sharp sticks were thrust up between the crevices of the board walk, so blood streamed from their bare feet. Having advanced so that they stood beneath the gibbet, their priestly robes were again thrown over them, and once more torn off by a bishop who repeated the words, "Thus do I sever you from the Church Militant and the Church Triumphant!" "Not the Church Triumphant!" answered Savonarola in a loud voice. "You can not do that." In order to prolong the torture of Savonarola, his companions were hanged first, before his eyes. When his turn came he stepped lightly to his place between the dead and swinging bodies of his brethren. As the executioner was adjusting the cord about his neck, his great tender eyes were raised to heaven and his lips moved in prayer as the noose tightened. The chains were quickly fastened about the bodies to hold them in place, and scarcely had the executioner upon the platform slid down the ladders, than the waiting torches below fired the pile and the flames shot heavenward and licked the great cross where the three bodies swayed. The smoke soon covered them from view.