d limped across
the grass to the church. The bronze image of the archangel stood in its
niche, its hands resting as of yore on the hilt of the great sword.
Robert peered at it with eyes still dazzled, and he babbled to himself
weakly.

"That image seemed to quicken, but now it is no more than motionless
bronze. I slept; I dreamed, and the lying vision has shaken me. I am wet
with sweat and my knees tremble. I will go into the chapel and pray."

He moved a little farther to ascend the steps, conscious of an
unfamiliar heaviness, unconscious of transformation. But as he made to
set his foot upon the lowest of the steps leading to the church, its
doors were thrown wide open, and to Robert's astonishment the
congregation began to issue forth, headed by the archbishop of Syracuse,
and ranged themselves in a double rank on the semicircle of the steps as
if forming a lane for one who was yet to come.

For a moment, in his rage, speech seemed denied to Robert as he glared
at the many-colored crowd before him--the fair ladies of honor,
butterfly bright; the slim, Italianate youths, fantastically foppish;
the smooth, eager priesthood; the soldiers weary of ceremonial but
indifferent to fatigue; the sturdy bulk, blue eyes, and yellow hair of
the Northern Guards. They paid no heed to Robert, standing there below
them; their glances were all for the open portal of the church and its
depths beyond of cool twilight.

Rage overcame amazement and gave Robert back his speech.

"How is this, my lord archbishop?" he cried out in a great voice--"I
bade you wait within the church till I came."

The archbishop, hearing this sudden appeal to him, turned for a moment
his wrinkled, astute face in the direction of the speaker, and,
following his example for the moment, all the others turned their
indifferent eyes upon Robert. Some of the pretty she-things whispered
and tittered. The archbishop spoke in a voice of gentle petulance.

"Peace, fool!" he said, and waved his jewelled hand in gentle reproof of
importunacy. If the jewelled hand had struck Robert brutally in the face
it could not more have staggered him. All the air seemed to glow red
around him; his reason surrendered itself to fury at this unmeaning,
indecent affront.

"Are you mad, priest?" he gasped, pointing a hand that trembled with
passion at the prelate, who had turned away from him and was again
gazing reverentially into the church. The women now were laughing
outright,