In one of the churches he showed the ladies facsimiles of the four nails used in the Crucifixion; of the originals, one, he explained, was preserved in St. Peter"s, and another had been used to make the circle of the Iron Crown. He even bought as a souvenir one of these facsimiles, which a Cistercian monk was offering for sale. He obtained also consecrated palm-branches with gilded leaves, and bribed the custodian of the three sacred orange-trees planted by the Apostles to give his party each a tiny leaflet. He schooled his face to betray no incredulity when the keepers of the various holy relics recited their virtues, and related the miracles wrought by them. And when Blanka knelt in prayer before a statue of the Madonna, he withdrew respectfully to a distance.
It was an earnest pet.i.tion she offered before the blessed Virgin, a prayer for rescue from her enemies, and for strength to resist every temptation. And she knew not that her rescuer and her tempter were one and the same person, and that he stood there behind her at that very moment.
Of a highly impressionable temperament, and fresh from her convent life, the princess was so moved by the sacred emblems about her, and by their holy a.s.sociations, that she could not conceive of any one"s viewing these objects with less of awe and reverence than herself. And when her conductor recounted the legend of the sacred lance in the chapel of St.
Veronica,--how the Roman lictor Longinus had pierced the Saviour"s side with this lance, and been himself struck blind the same instant, but had immediately recovered his sight when he rubbed his eyes with the hand on which four drops of the Redeemer"s blood had fallen,--Blanka could not but ask herself whether another such miracle might not be wrought, and another blind man be restored to sight. She dreamed of this miracle that night, and made a vow to the Virgin that in case of her deliverance from her present difficulties, she would show her grat.i.tude by presenting the Madonna with a jewel more precious than any that adorned her crown: she would offer this young man himself, who now refused to worship at her shrine. The princess felt herself rich enough to buy this jewel for her offering. Her heart held inexhaustible treasures, of which no man as yet could claim any share. She ceased to fear him against whom she had hitherto felt obliged to be on her guard; so much strength had she gained from the sacred relics that she now thought herself strong enough to make conquests of her own.
In the morning Mana.s.seh came early to escort the ladies and Gabriel Zimandy to the Sistine Chapel. Upon gaining the Piazza di San Pietro they found a vast throng already a.s.sembled, through which the young man was forced to pilot his charges. Blanka was compelled to cling fast to his arm, while Madam Dormandy took the advocate"s, and so they made the best of their way forward. As if by instinct, Mana.s.seh knew where a courteous request would open a path before them, where to resort to more energetic measures, and where a couple of _lire_ would prove most effectual. At length he was successful in gaining the very best position in the chapel, and here, unfolding a camp-stool which he had brought with him under his overcoat, he offered Blanka a seat, whence she could view the ceremonies in comfort, and without annoyance from the pushing and crowding mult.i.tude.
Alas, poor Blanka! She only learned later from her father confessor what a sin she had committed in thus yielding to the weakness of the flesh, instead of standing through all the weary hours of that morning. A good Christian should not think of bodily comfort while his Saviour hangs bleeding on the cross. But she did not know this at the time, and therefore her escort"s kind attention was most grateful to her.
The Tenebrae is one of the most impressive of all the ceremonies of Holy Week in Rome. The Sistine Chapel is draped entirely in black, and only the soft rays of thirteen wax candles serve to lessen the darkness, out of whose depths, as out of the blackness of the tomb, sounds the antiphony of mourning and lamentation. The human forms moving to and fro before the cross are hardly distinguishable, but have the appearance of vague shadows. Then the candles are, one by one, extinguished, until only a single taper is left burning on the altar--that is Jesus. And in this darkness, symbolic of grief and mourning, an invisible choir sings the _Miserere_, Allegri"s world-renowned composition, whose mystic notes bring so vividly before us that last scene on Golgotha,--the agony of the dying Saviour, the taunts of the lictors, the wailing of the holy women, the shrieks of the dead whose graves are opened, and who cry aloud for mercy, and finally the rending of the Temple curtain, and the chorus of angels in heaven. All this affects even the most hardened of skeptics with a power that cannot be withstood. For the time being the imagination is mistress of the reason.
As the crowd poured out of the chapel after the ceremony was over, Blanka shot a glance of scrutiny from beneath her veil at the young man by her side. His face wore its wonted look of seriousness, the utter opposite of careless indifference, but at the same time wholly unlike the devout rapture of a believer. In fact, his expression betrayed but too clearly that his thoughts were little occupied with what he had just witnessed.
"Have you heard the _Miserere_ many times before?" asked Blanka.
"Twice only,--once in the Sistine Chapel, and again in St. Stephen"s at Vienna."
"But I thought its production was forbidden elsewhere than in Rome,"
said the princess.
"Formerly that was the case," replied Mana.s.seh, "the publication of Allegri"s work being strictly prohibited; but after Mozart had heard it once and written it down from memory, its reproduction could not be prevented. So I had a chance to hear it in Vienna, where, however, it was but ill received, some of the audience even being moved to laughter."
"For what reason, pray?"
"Oh, not from any frivolity or irreverence, but because the music, which sounds so grandly impressive here in the Sistine Chapel, strikes one as a mere confusion of discordant notes amid other surroundings."
On the following day came the washing of the Apostles" feet. Chosen priests from thirteen nations of the earth gathered in the Pauline Chapel to receive this humble service at the hands of the Pope himself.
The thirteenth of these chosen ones represented the angel that is said to have appeared with the appointed twelve in St. Gregory"s time. Then followed the Last Supper, at which also the holy father ministered to the Apostles in person.
The next day was Sat.u.r.day, and Gabriel Zimandy declared himself surfeited with holy ceremonies. Madam Dormandy agreed with him and began to complain of a fearful headache. Then the two united in maintaining that the princess looked utterly worn out and in need of rest. But Mana.s.seh, who, by appointment, just then came upon the scene to offer his escort for the day, laughed them all three to shame.
"That is always the way," said he; "people tire themselves out so before Sat.u.r.day that on that day five-sixths of the crowd stay at home to save up their strength for Easter, and thus miss one of the most impressive spectacles of the week,--the adoration of the true cross."
Poor Gabriel was now given no rest: he was forced to accompany the others once more to the Sistine Chapel, though he declared himself already quite stiff and sore with so much standing.
The chapel was at its best; the black hangings had been removed, the light from the windows was softened, candles burned on the altar, and, as Mana.s.seh had predicted, so many of the sightseers had stayed at home that ample room was left for those who were present. The general mult.i.tude could find little pleasure in the ceremony of the day,--the worship of a piece of wood about three yards in length, and unadorned with gold or silver. The Pope and the cardinals, gowned with no pretence to magnificence or pomp, knelt before the relic as it lay on the altar.
It was but a fragment of the original cross, broken in the strife that attended its rescue. This piece is said to have been saved and carried off by an emperor, making his way barefoot from Jerusalem to Alexandria, where another emperor concealed the precious relic in a statue, and finally the Templars bore it in triumph through pagan hordes from Constantinople to Rome. And now, when the head of the Church, the pastor of a flock of two hundred million human beings, the keeper of the keys of heaven, approaches this bit of wood, he strips himself of his splendid robes, removes the crown from his head, the shoes from his feet, and goes, simply clad and barefoot, with humble mien, to kneel and kiss the sacred emblem. The cardinals follow his example, and meanwhile the choir sings Palestrina"s famous composition, the "Ma.s.s of Pope Marcellinus," a wonderful piece that must have been first sung to the composer by the angels themselves.
When the last notes of the music had died away, the bells of St. Peter"s began to ring, the hangings before the windows were drawn aside, and Michael Angelo"s marvellous frescoes were fully revealed to the admiring gaze of all present. The swords and halberds of the guards were once more raised erect, and the choir, the prelates, and the pilgrims joined in a common "Hallelujah!"
"Hallelujah!" cried Gabriel Zimandy also, rejoicing that the ceremony was finally ended. "Never before in all my life have I been so completely tired out."
On his return to the hotel, he stoutly protested against attending any more Church functions, and argued at length the inadvisability of the ladies exposing themselves to the heat and fatigue of the Easter service. Finally, and most important of all, he added that he had been granted an audience with the Pope and must prepare his address, which was to be in Latin.
"We are infinitely indebted to you, friend Mana.s.seh," he concluded, "for all your kindness; but you see for yourself how the case stands with me."
"Yes, yes, I understand," replied the young man. "The audience is fixed for day after to-morrow, and of course you wish to prepare for it. Let me suggest, too, that you pay the French amba.s.sador, to whose house I took you the other day, the courtesy of a call; he knows a little Latin, although, to be sure, it can"t equal your own."
This suggestion, casual though it was meant to appear, made it evident to the advocate that he owed the early granting of his request to the powerful influence of the French minister. And Mana.s.seh, on his part, was not slow to perceive that the advocate"s chief concern was lest his fair client, at this critical time, should be seen in public in the company of a strange young man. It might hurt her case irremediably.
With a full understanding of the situation, Mana.s.seh took leave of the princess, who indeed was looking very down-hearted at the prospect of missing what she had so ardently desired. But she was schooled to the denial of her own pleasure, and so quietly shook hands with her caller--then went to the window to watch his retreating form.
CHAPTER VI.
THE CONSECRATED PALM-LEAF.
Early the next morning the cannon began to boom from the Castle of St.
Angelo. Gabriel Zimandy sprang out of bed and dressed himself quickly.
His first care was to tap at Madam Dormandy"s door and inquire for her health. The patient answered in a pitiful voice that the guns were fairly splitting her poor head, and that she did not expect to live the day through. This reply seemed to be quite to the advocate"s liking: of the lady"s succ.u.mbing to her ailment he had not the slightest fear, while he now felt a.s.sured that it would be impossible for his client to go out that day. What conception had he, heartless man, of the longing that filled the young woman"s soul for the papal blessing, to which she ascribed such miraculous power, but which to him was nothing more than a Latin phrase?
Soon the bells began to ring from all the church-towers of the city, and a stream of people in gala attire poured toward St. Peter"s. Poor Blanka sat at her window with eyes fixed on a certain corner, around which she had the day before seen Mana.s.seh Adorjan"s form disappear. The clocks struck twelve, thirteen, fourteen--by Italian reckoning of time; the crowds began to thin, and at last every one seemed to have betaken himself to St. Peter"s. An open carriage halted in the now deserted street in front of the hotel, and Blanka recognised in its occupant the very person whose image had been so persistently before her mind"s eye.
"Pardon me, princess, for intruding," began Mana.s.seh in greeting, as he entered the young lady"s presence; "but yesterday I saw that you were disappointed at not being able to attend the Easter service at St.
Peter"s. I have found means to remove that disappointment, I hope."
The princess felt her pulse quicken with eager delight, while at the same time she shrank back in nameless apprehension of what the young man might be going to propose.
"I fear it is too late," she replied, quietly. "I am not even dressed for the occasion."
"You have time enough," returned the other, rea.s.suringly. "The French minister"s wife has kindly offered to take you with her. Seats for the ladies of the emba.s.sy have been reserved and can be easily reached by a special entrance. They are very near the _loggia_ where the papal blessing will be p.r.o.nounced. In an hour Madame Rossi will be here; that will give you time to get ready."
"And are you going with us?"
"No, that will be impossible, as the reserved seats are for ladies only; but I will escort Madame Rossi and her daughter to your door, and you will, I am sure, find them very pleasant company. For myself, I shall hunt up some sort of a perch where I can get a view of the day"s festivities."
So saying, the young man hurried away.
Against this plan Gabriel Zimandy could raise no objections. Indeed, he saw the policy of making friends with the French emba.s.sy, and as long as Mana.s.seh was not to accompany the party his professional schemes were in no wise endangered.
When Mana.s.seh returned with the French ladies he sought the lawyer.
"Come, my friend," he urged, "if your legs have nothing to say against it, if your religious belief permits, and if you have studied your Latin speech enough for one day, I will find you a good shady spot where you can witness what no mortal eye has seen in all these eighteen Christian centuries, and is little likely to see again in eighteen centuries to come."
"What may that be?"
"A Pope of the Romish Church, p.r.o.nouncing his blessing from the _loggia_ of St. Peter"s on the Roman army, preparatory to its marching forth to fight for freedom. Durando"s troops are now marshalled in St. Peter"s Square, awaiting the papal blessing on the swords drawn for liberty and country. It has, I know, been your dream to witness a sight like that, and now I come to invite you to its realisation."
"Well, well, that is something worth while," admitted the advocate. "The whole Roman army, and Durando himself! Surely, I can"t afford to miss it." The invitation had driven quite out of his head all the objections so strenuously urged the day before.
The ladies had no difficulty in reaching the places reserved for them; for the gentlemen, however, it was not so easy to find even standing-room. But at length Mana.s.seh guided his companion to one end of the scaffolding which supported the ladies" platform, and there found for him a V-shaped seat in the angle of two beams, while he himself stood on a projecting timber which afforded him room for one foot, and clung to the woodwork of the platform with both hands. The discomfort of his position was lightened for him by the fact that, only a few feet above, he could see Blanka"s face as she sat with eyes directed toward the _loggia_ where the Pope was soon to appear.
It was a grand spectacle. The whole army--infantry, cavalry, artillery--was drawn up in the immense _piazza_, each regiment carrying two flags--the banner of the Church, on which were depicted the keys of heaven, and the red, white, and green flag of Italian freedom. The background to this scene was furnished by the cathedral itself, a vast throng of spectators crowded the foreground, and the whole united to produce an effect of pomp and grandeur that fairly beggars description.
The clocks struck eighteen--midday. The great bell sounded in the western turret of the cathedral, and the booming of cannon was once more heard from the Castle of St. Angelo. The service within the cathedral was at an end, the leather curtains that hung before the great bronze doors parted, and out poured the procession of pilgrims, until the whole wide expanse of the portico was filled. Mysterious music fell on the ear from somewhere above: a military band stationed aloft in the cupola had struck up a psalm of praise, and it seemed to the listeners to come from heaven itself. Silver trumpets--so the faithful believe--are used in rendering this piece.
All faces were now turned toward the _loggia_, a sort of projecting balcony high up on the front of the cathedral. A sound like the murmur of the sea rose from the mult.i.tude: each spectator was shifting his position, and seeking a clearer view. Then the _loggia_ became suddenly filled with moving forms,--cardinals in their splendid robes, knights in mediaeval armour, pages in costly livery. The crown-bearers advanced with two triple tiaras, one the gift of Napoleon I., the other presented by the queen of Spain, and both sparkling with diamonds. A third crown,--the oldest of all, originally simple in form, then a double diadem, and finally a threefold tiara,--encircled the head of the Pope himself, who, seated on a golden throne, was borne forward to the stone breastwork, on which two crowns had been placed by their bearers. The pontiff rose from his seat and the sun shone full upon his venerable form. He wore a white robe embroidered with gold, and his appearance was radiant with light. The benignant smile that illumined his countenance outshone all the diamonds in his triple crown.