he
Apostle would not be forgotten for ages. Others said to themselves,
"Perhaps the Lord will select the hour of Peter's death to come from
heaven as He promised, and judge the world." With this idea they
recommended themselves to the mercy of the Redeemer.

But round about there was calm. The hills seemed to be warming
themselves, and resting in the sun. The procession stopped at last
between the Circus and the Vatican Hill. Soldiers began now to dig a
hole; others placed on the ground the cross, hammers, and nails, waiting
till all preparations were finished. The crowd, continuing quiet and
attentive, knelt round about.

The Apostle, with his head in the sun-rays and golden light, turned for
the last time toward the city. At a distance lower down was seen the
gleaming Tiber; beyond was the Campus Martius; higher up, the Mausoleum
of Augustus; below that, the gigantic baths just begun by Nero; still
lower, Pompey's theatre; and beyond them were visible in places, and
in places hidden by other buildings, the Septa Julia, a multitude of
porticos, temples, columns, great edifices; and, finally, far in the
distance, hills covered with houses, a gigantic resort of people, the
borders of which vanished in the blue haze,--an abode of crime, but
of power; of madness, but of order,--which had become the head of the
world, its oppressor, but its law and its peace, almighty, invincible,
eternal.

But Peter, surrounded by soldiers, looked at the city as a ruler and
king looks at his inheritance. And he said to it, "Thou art redeemed
and mine!" And no one, not merely among the soldiers digging the hole
in which to plant the cross, but even among believers, could divine that
standing there among them was the true ruler of that moving life; that
Caesars would pass away, waves of barbarians go by, and ages vanish, but
that old man would be lord there unbrokenly.

The sun had sunk still more toward Ostia, and had become large and
red. The whole western side of the sky had begun to glow with immense
brightness. The soldiers approached Peter to strip him.

But he, while praying, straightened himself all at once, and stretched
his right hand high. The executioners stopped, as if made timid by his
posture; the faithful held the breath in their breasts, thinking that he
wished to say something, and silence unbroken followed.

But he, standing on the height, with his extended right hand made the
sign of the cross, blessing in the hour