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cowardice, abandonment of one's weapons in order that one may retreat the

more speedily, shame of oneself, assumption of a mask in the hope of

deceiving the enemy, penetrating into his camp, and overcoming him by

treachery! No, no, form is everything in a traditional and immutable

religion, which for eighteen hundred years has been, is now, and till the

end of time will be the very law of God!"

The Cardinal's feelings so stirred him that he was unable to remain

seated, and began to walk about the little room. And it was the whole

reign, the whole policy of Leo XIII which he discussed and condemned.

"Unity too," he continued, "that famous unity of the Christian Church

which his Holiness talks of bringing about, and his desire for which

people turn to his great glory, why, it is only the blind ambition of a

conqueror enlarging his empire without asking himself if the new nations

that he subjects may not disorganise, adulterate, and impregnate his old

and hitherto faithful people with every error. What if all the

schismatical nations on returning to the Catholic Church should so

transform it as to kill it and make it a new Church? There is only one

wise course, which is to be what one is, and that firmly. Again, isn't

there both shame and danger in that pretended alliance with the democracy

which in itself gives the lie to the ancient spirit of the papacy? The

right of kings is divine, and to abandon the monarchical principle is to

set oneself against God, to compound with revolution, and harbour a

monstrous scheme of utilising the madness of men the better to establish

one's power over them. All republics are forms of anarchy, and there can

be no more criminal act, one which must for ever shake the principle of

authority, order, and religion itself, than that of recognising a

republic as legitimate for the sole purpose of indulging a dream of

impossible conciliation. And observe how this bears on the question of

the temporal power. He continues to claim it, he makes a point of no

surrender on that question of the restoration of Rome; but in reality,

has he not made the loss irreparable, has he not definitively renounced

Rome, by admitting that nations have the right to drive away their kings

and live like wild beasts in the depths of the forest?"

All at once the Cardinal stopped short and raised his arms to Heaven in a

burst of holy anger. "Ah! that man, ah! that man who by his vanity and

craving for success will have proved the ruin of the Church, that man who

has never ceased corrupting everything, dissolving everything, crumbling

everything in order to reign over the world which he fancies he will

reconquer by those means, why, Almighty God, why hast Thou not already

called him to Thee?"

So sincere was the accent in which that appeal to Death was raised, to

such a point was hatred magnified by a real desire to save the Deity

imperilled here below, that a great shudder swept through Pierre also. He

now understood that Cardinal Boccanera who religiously and passionately

hated Leo XIII; he saw him in the depths of his black palace, waiting and

watching for the Pope's death, that death which as _Camerlingo_ he must

officially certify. How feverishly he must wait, how impatiently he must

desire the advent of the hour, when with his little silver hammer he

would deal the three symbolic taps on the skull of Leo XIII, while the

latter lay cold and rigid on his bed surrounded by his pontifical Court.

Ah! to strike that wall of the brain, to make sure that nothing more

would answer from within, that nothing beyond night and silence was left

there. And the three calls would ring out: "Gioachino! Gioachino!

Gioachino!" And, the corpse making no answer, the _Camerlingo_ after

waiting for a few seconds would turn and say: "The Pope is dead!"

"Conciliation, however, is the weapon of the times," remarked Pierre,

wishing to bring the Cardinal back to the present, "and it is in order to

make sure of conquering that the Holy Father yields in matters of form."

"He will not conquer, he will be conquered," cried Boccanera. "Never has

the Church been victorious save in stubbornly clinging to its

integrality, the immutable eternity of its divine essence. And it would

for a certainty fall on the day when it should allow a single stone of

its edifice to be touched. Remember the terrible period through which it

passed at the time of the Council of Trent. The Reformation had just

deeply shaken it, laxity of discipline and morals was everywhere

increasing, there was a rising tide of novelties, ideas suggested by the

spirit of evil, unhealthy projects born of the pride of man, running riot

in full license. And at the Council itself many members were disturbed,

poisoned, ready to vote for the wildest changes, a fresh schism added to

all the others. Well, if Catholicism was saved at that critical period,

under the threat of such great danger, it was because the majority,

enlightened by God, maintained the old edifice intact, it was because

with divinely inspired obstinacy it kept itself within the narrow limits

of dogma, it was because it made no concession, none, whether in

substance or in form! Nowadays the situation is certainly not worse than

it was at the time of the Council of Trent. Let us suppose it to be much

the same, and tell me if it is not nobler, braver, and safer for the

Church to show the courage which she showed before and declare aloud what

she is, what she has been, and what she will be. There is no salvation

for her otherwise than in her complete, indisputable sovereignty; and

since she has always conquered by non-surrender, all attempts to

conciliate her with the century are tantamount to killing her!"

The Cardinal had again begun to walk to and fro with thoughtful step.

"No, no," said he, "no compounding, no surrender, no weakness! Rather the

wall of steel which bars the road, the block of granite which marks the

limit of a world! As I told you, my dear son, on the day of your arrival,

to try to accommodate Catholicism to the new times is to hasten its end,

if really it be threatened, as atheists pretend. And in that way it would

die basely and shamefully instead of dying erect, proud, and dignified in

its old glorious royalty! Ah! to die standing, denying nought of the

past, braving the future and confessing one's whole faith!"

That old man of seventy seemed to grow yet loftier as he spoke, free from

all dread of final annihilation, and making the gesture of a hero who

defies futurity. Faith had given him serenity of peace; he believed, he

knew, he had neither doubt nor fear of the morrow of death. Still his

voice was tinged with haughty sadness as he resumed, "God can do all,

even destroy His own work should it seem evil in His eyes. But though all

should crumble to-morrow, though the Holy Church should disappear among

the ruins, though the most venerated sanctuaries should be crushed by the

falling stars, it would still be necessary for us to bow and adore God,

who after creating the world might thus annihilate it for His own glory.

And I wait, submissive to His will, for nothing happens unless He wills

it. If really the temples be shaken, if Catholicism be fated to fall

to-morrow into dust, I shall be here to act as the minister of death,

even as I have been the minister of life! It is certain, I confess it,

that there are hours when terrible signs appear to me. Perhaps, indeed,

the end of time is nigh, and we shall witness that fall of the old world

with which others threaten us. The worthiest, the loftiest are struck

down as if Heaven erred, and in them punished the crimes of the world.

Have I not myself felt the blast from the abyss into which all must sink,

since my house, for transgressions that I am ignorant of, has been

stricken with that frightful bereavement which precipitates it into the

gulf which casts it back into night everlasting!"

He again evoked those two dear dead ones who were always present in his

mind. Sobs were once more rising in his throat, his hands trembled, his

lofty figure quivered with the last revolt of grief. Yes, if God had

stricken him so severely by suppressing his race, if the greatest and

most faithful were thus punished, it must be that the world was

definitively condemned. Did not the end of his house mean the approaching

end of all? And in his sovereign pride as priest and as prince, he found

a cry of supreme resignation, once more raising his hands on high:

"Almighty God, Thy will be done! May all die, all fall, all return to the

night of chaos! I shall remain standing in this ruined palace, waiting to

be buried beneath its fragments. And if Thy will should summon me to bury

Thy holy religion, be without fear, I shall do nothing unworthy to

prolong its life for a few days! I will maintain it erect, like myself,

as proud, as uncompromising as in the days of all its power. I will yield

nothing, whether in discipline, or in rite, or in dogma. And when the day

shall come I will bury it with myself, carrying it whole into the grave

rather than yielding aught of it, encompassing it with my cold arms to

restore it to Thee, even as Thou didst commit it to the keeping of Thy

Church. O mighty God and sovereign Master, dispose of me, make me if such

be Thy good pleasure the pontiff of destruction, the pontiff of the death

of the world."

Pierre, who was thunderstruck, quivered with fear and admiration at the

extraordinary vision this evoked: the last of the popes interring

Catholicism. He understood that Boccanera must at times have made that

dream; he could see him in the Vatican, in St. Peter's which the

thunderbolts had riven asunder, he could see him erect and alone in the

spacious halls whence his terrified, cowardly pontifical Court had fled.

Clad in his white cassock, thus wearing white mourning for the Church, he

once more descended to the sanctuary, there to wait for heaven to fall on

the evening of Time's accomplishment and annihilate the earth. Thrice he

raised the large crucifix, overthrown by the supreme convulsions of the

soil. Then, when the final crack rent the steps apart, he caught it in

his arms and was annihilated with it beneath the falling vaults. And

nothing could be more instinct with fierce and kingly grandeur.

Voiceless, but without weakness, his lofty stature invincible and erect

in spite of all, Cardinal Boccanera made a gesture dismissing Pierre, who

yielding to his passion for truth and beauty found that he alone was

great and right, and respectfully kissed his hand.

It was in the throne-room, with closed doors, at nightfall, after the

visits had ceased, that the two bodies were laid in their coffin. The

religious services had come to an end, and in the close silent atmosphere

there only lingered the dying perfume of the roses and the warm odour of

the candles. As the latter's pale stars scarcely lighted the spacious

room, some lamps had been brought, and servants held them in their hands

like torches. According to custom, all the servants of the house were

present to bid a last farewell to the departed.

There was a little delay. Morano, who had been giving himself no end of

trouble ever since morning, was forced to run off again as the triple

coffin did not arrive. At last it came, some servants brought it up, and

then they were able to begin. The Cardinal and Donna Serafina stood side

by side near the bed. Pierre also was present, as well as Don Vigilio. It

was Victorine who sewed the lovers up in the white silk shroud, which

seemed like a bridal robe, the gay pure robe of their union. Then two

servants came forward and helped Pierre and Don Vigilio to lay the bodies

in the first coffin, of pine wood lined with pink satin. It was scarcely

broader than an ordinary coffin, so young and slim were the lovers and so

tightly were they clasped in their last embrace. When they were stretched

inside they there continued their eternal slumber, their heads half

hidden by their odorous, mingling hair. And when this first coffin had

been placed in the second one, a leaden shell, and the second had been

enclosed in the third, of stout oak, and when the three lids had been

soldered and screwed down, the lovers' faces could still be seen through

the circular opening, covered with thick glass, which in accordance with

the Roman custom had been left in each of the coffins. And then, for ever

parted from the living, alone together, they still gazed at one another

with their eyes obstinately open, having all eternity before them wherein

to exhaust their infinite love.

XVI.

ON the following day, on his return from the funeral Pierre lunched alone

in his room, having decided to take leave of the Cardinal and Donna

Serafina during the afternoon. He was quitting Rome that evening by the

train which started at seventeen minutes past ten. There was nothing to

detain him any longer; there was only one visit which he desired to make,

a visit to old Orlando, with whom he had promised to have a long chat

prior to his departure. And so a little before two o'clock he sent for a

cab which took him to the Via Venti Settembre. A fine rain had fallen all

night, its moisture steeping the city in grey vapour; and though this

rain had now ceased the sky remained very dark, and the huge new mansions

of the Via Venti Settembre were quite livid, interminably mournful with

their balconies ever of the same pattern and their regular and endless

rows of windows. The Ministry of Finances, that colossal pile of masonry

and sculpture, looked in particular like a dead town, a huge bloodless

body whence all life had withdrawn. On the other hand, although all was

so gloomy the rain had made the atmosphere milder, in fact it was almost

warm, damply and feverishly warm.

In the hall of Prada's little palazzo Pierre was surprised to find four

or five gentlemen taking off their overcoats; however he learnt from a

servant that Count Luigi had a meeting that day with some contractors. As

he, Pierre, wished to see the Count's father he had only to ascend to the