The People now hurried out, as eagerly as they had before thronged in; But their numbers clogging up the doorway, and the fire gaining upon them rapidly, many of them perished ere they had time to effect their escape.

Lorenzo's good fortune directed him to a small door in a farther Aisle of the Chapel.

The bolt was already undrawn: He opened the door, and found himself at the foot of St.Clare's Sepulchre.
Here He stopped to breathe.

The Duke and some of his Attendants had followed him, and thus were in security for the present.

They now consulted, what steps they should take to escape from this scene of disturbance: But their deliberations were considerably interrupted by the sight of volumes of fire rising from amidst the Convent's massy walls, by the noise of some heavy Arch tumbling down in ruins, or by the mingled shrieks of the Nuns and Rioters, either suffocating in the press, perishing in the flames, or crushed beneath the weight of the falling Mansion.
Lorenzo enquired, whither the Wicket led?
He was answered, to the Garden of the Capuchins, and it was resolved to explore an outlet upon that side.