"Have you ever thought, sir, of the end of the unjust Minister? Think of
his dying hour, tortured with the memory of young lives dissolved,
mothers dead, widows desolate, and orphans in tears. Think of the day
after his death, when he who has passed through the world like the
scourge of God lies at its feet, and no one so mean but he may spurn the
dishonoured carcass. You are aiming high, your Excellency, but beware,
beware!"
The Pope sat, and the King rose to his feet.
"Your Majesty," said the Pope, "the day will come when we must both
present ourselves before God to render to Him an account of our deeds,
and I, being far more advanced in years, will assuredly be the first.
But I would not dare to meet the eye of my Judge if I did not this day
warn you of the dangers in which you stand. Only God knows by what
inscrutable decree of Providence one man is made a Pope or a King, while
another man, his equal or superior, is made a beggar or a slave. But God
who made Popes and Kings meant them to be the fathers, not the seducers
of their subjects. A sovereign may be a man of good intentions, but if
he is weak, and allows himself to fall into the hands of despotic
Ministers, he is a worse affliction than the cruellest tyrant. Think
well, your Majesty! A throne may be a quagmire, and a man may be buried
in it, and buried alive."
The young King began to falter some incoherent words, but without
listening the Pope rose to end the audience.
"You promise me," said the Pope, "that if--I say if--in order to avoid
bloodshed and to prevent a crime, I obtain from this lady the
identification of her husband as the person condemned for the former
conspiracy, you will spare and pardon him whatever happens?"
"Holy Father, I give you my solemn word for it."
"Then leave me! Let me think!... Wait! If she consents, where must she
go to?"
"To the Procura by the Ponte Ripetta, and, as time presses, at ten
o'clock on Saturday morning," said the Baron.
"Leave me! Leave me!"
The King knelt again and kissed the Pope's hand, but the Baron only
bowed as he passed out behind his sovereign.
The opening of the doors let in a wave of sound that was like the roll
of a great wind in a cave. Tenebræ had been going on for some time in
the Basilica, and the people were singing the Miserere.