Jacopo de’ Pazzi had not, from the beginning, deceived himself as to the difficulties of the undertaking. But it was he who showed the most determination. He hastened to the square of the Signoria with a company of about a hundred armed men, summoning the people to regain their liberty. It was his men who succeeded in penetrating into the square. But they were soon thrust out again, and none dared to approach any more, as they were threatened with stones thrown down from the battlements, this final attempt of the conspiracy was speedily ended. The streets around were filled with men. ‘Palle! palle!’ ‘Death to the traitors!’ This was the answer to Pazzi’s summons. Stones were hurled against the band, who tried to keep the square occupied, but were threatened on all sides. There was no time to be lost. The people already began to hew down the armed men who tried to escape. Messer Jacopo secured first the Porta la Croce, and then hastened to his house, where his nephew Francesco, severely wounded by his own hand, lay concealed in the bedchamber, after he had vainly tried to mount on horseback and ride to the square. No one could stay; the streets were fast filling; bleeding heads were carried about on pikes, with wild cries for vengeance. He saw that all was lost, and two hours after the occurrence, he rode with a band of his followers, through the gate we have mentioned. As the people of their own accord executed judgment, and killed even priests in Salviati’s suite on the square, the cruel work began in the palace. No sooner had the Signoria heard of Giuliano’s death, than they determined to hang Jacopo Bracciolini. This was done before the eyes of the crowd, at a window of the principal storey. Jacopo Salviati met with a like fate. Meanwhile, Francesco de’ Pazzi had been discovered and dragged into the street. He arrived at the palace half dead; it was a wonder that the furious crowd had not torn him to pieces. But no word could be extracted from him about the conspiracy and his accomplices; he expired at a window with the expression of the wild passion which inspired him still on his features. Beside him, the archbishop met a similar end in his ecclesiastical robes; in his last agony he is said to have torn Francesco’s breast with his teeth. The prisoners in the palace were hewn down without mercy. In all the streets bleeding heads and torn limbs were to be seen, the ghastly tokens of wild popular justice and no less wild party hatred. Thus passed the Sunday before the Feast of Ascension of 1478.