his place watched the heavenly
drama of Christ's Passion enacted through the veil of His nativity at
the hands of His old Angelic Vicar. It was hard to perceive Calvary
here; it was surely the air of Bethlehem, the celestial light, not the
supernatural darkness, that beamed round the simple altar. It was the
Child called Wonderful that lay there beneath the old hands, rather than
the stricken Man of Sorrows.

_Adeste fideles_ sang the choir from the tribune.--Come, let us adore,
rather than weep; let us exult, be content, be ourselves like little
children. As He for us became a child, let us become childlike for Him.
Let us put on the garments of infancy and the shoes of peace. _For the
Lord hath reigned; He is clothed with beauty: the Lord is clothed with
strength and hath girded Himself. He hath established the world which
shall not be moved: His throne is prepared from of old. He is from
everlasting. Rejoice greatly then, O daughter of Zion, shout for joy, O
daughter of Jerusalem; behold thy King cometh, to thee, the Holy One,
the Saviour of the world._ It will be time, then, to suffer by and bye,
when the Prince of this world cometh upon the Prince of Heaven.

So Percy mused, standing apart in his gorgeousness, striving to make
himself little and simple. Surely nothing was too hard for God! Might
not this mystic Birth once more do what it had done before--bring into
subjection through the might of its weakness every proud thing that
exalts itself above all that is called God? It had drawn wise Kings once
across the desert, as well as shepherds from their flocks. It had kings
about it now, kneeling with the poor and foolish, kings who had laid
down their crowns, who brought the gold of loyal hearts, the myrrh of
desired martyrdom, and the incense of a pure faith. Could not republics,
too, lay aside their splendour, mobs be tamed, selfishness deny itself,
and wisdom confess its ignorance?...

Then he remembered Felsenburgh; and his heart sickened within him.

III

Six days later, Percy rose as usual, said his mass, breakfasted, and
sat down to say office until his servant should summon him to vest for
the Pontifical mass.

He had learned to expect bad news now so constantly--of apostasies,
deaths, losses--that the lull of the previous week had come to him with
extraordinary refreshment. It appeared to him as if his musings in St.
Anastasia had been truer than he thought, and that the sweetness of the
old