an example--this
poor native of Limoges!" thought Albornoz; "and has but the
mortification of finding himself eclipsed by the poorest bishop. He
humbles himself, and fancies that the humility will be contagious."

His Holiness was seated before a small and rude table bestrewed with
papers, his face buried in his hands; the room was simply furnished, and
in a small niche beside the casement was an ivory crucifix; below, the
death's head and cross-bones, which most monks then introduced with a
purpose similar to that of the ancients by the like ornaments,--mementos
of the shortness of life, and therefore admonitions to make the best
of it! On the ground lay a map of the Patrimonial Territory, with the
fortresses in especial, distinctly and prominently marked. The Pope
gently lifted up his head as the Cardinal was announced, and discovered
a plain but sensible and somewhat interesting countenance. "My son!"
said he, with a kindly courtesy to the lowly salutation of the proud
Spaniard, "scarcely wouldst thou imagine, after our long conference
this morning, that new cares would so soon demand the assistance of thy
counsels. Verily, the wreath of thorns stings sharp under the triple
crown; and I sometimes long for the quiet abode of my old professor's
chair in Toulouse: my station is of pain and toil."

"God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," observed the Cardinal, with
pious and compassionate gravity.

Innocent could scarcely refrain a smile as he replied, "The lamb that
carries the cross must have the strength of the lion. Since we parted,
my son, I have had painful intelligence; our couriers have arrived from
the Campagna--the heathen rage furiously--the force of John di Vico has
augmented fearfully, and the most redoubted adventurer of Europe has
enlisted under his banner."

"Does his Holiness," cried the Cardinal, anxiously, "speak of Fra
Moreale, the Knight of St. John?"

"Of no less a warrior," returned the Pontiff. "I dread the vast ambition
of that wild adventurer."

"Your Holiness hath cause," said the Cardinal, drily.

"Some letters of his have fallen into the hands of the servants of the
Church; they are here: read them, my son."

Albornoz received and deliberately scanned the letters; this done, he
replaced them on the table, and remained for a few moments silent and
absorbed.

"What think you, my son?" said the Pope, at length, with an impatient
and even peevish tone.

"I think that, with Montreal