had an opportunity which was entirely grateful to Him. He was Ruler, Father, Vicar. And He was altogether unafraid. He stood up, and blessed the City and the World. In the Xystine Chapel, they relieved Him of the pontifical regalia, and the voluminous far-flowing petti[Pg 104]coat of white taffetas, which is so sumptuous to the eye of the beholden and so ridiculously cumbersome to the legs of the wearer; and He ate some apples while Orezzo, on behalf of the Sacred College, recited time-honoured compliments. [Pg 104] "Lord Cardinals," said Hadrian, "We thank you for your service: and We invite those of you who are able and willing to attend Us, now, when We go to take possession of Our episcopal see." He moved towards the door. The short train of His cassock trailed behind Him, and the Bishop of Caerleon stooped to it. Ragna had something to howl. "Holiness, this is suicide for You and murder for us. The City is full of Jews and Freemasons; and we shall most assuredly be stabbed, or shot, or shattered to pieces with bombs, or drenched with vitrol——" "The Church wants a martyr badly. Your Eminency is invited, not commanded." Berstein muttered to Vivole, in a scandalized tone, that the Pope was courting popularity. Pepato, with a note of admiration, commented on the mad English. Word of the invitation rushed on ahead. Of the crowd of officials, many began to arrange themselves in a certain order: others had pressing calls elsewhere. Masters-of-ceremonies, wracking their brains for long forgotten details, flew hither and thither with instructions and pushes. Poor old Grani sat down in a recess; and wept to think that there was no time to get out the white gennets annually presented by the King of Spain. Hadrian came on slowly, chatting with Caerleon, giving people a chance of making up their minds. When He emerged from the colonnade in the Square of St. Peter's, the Syndic of Rome fell into the ranks just before the Pope; and a royal escort of the Prætorian Guard surrounded Him. Hadrian stopped; and beckoned Prince Pilastro. [Pg 105] [Pg 105] "Sir Syndic, are We free?" He mewed. "But free, Holy Father."
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