heaven, and his right hand extended, he cried, with a loud voice,--

"I, Frederic of Hohenstauffen, king of the Germans and Emperor of Rome,
do swear before Almighty God and the ever blessed Virgin Mary, by the
holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and all the Saints of Paradise, that this
crown will no more grace my brow until the city of Milan shall have
been destroyed in chastisement for her crimes!"

The Emperor made the sign of the cross, and delivered the diadem into
the keeping of the Imperial Chancellor.

This solemn oath electrified the Italians.

"Long live the Emperor!" shouted a thousand voices. "Long live the
Emperor! Down with Milan!"

In the midst of the applause, Barbarossa, well satisfied with the
result of his harangue, left the tribune, followed by his nobles.
Meanwhile Victor, who had returned to his tent, gave free vent to his
anger, and while Alberic was divesting him of his mantle, shook his
head with most unequivocal marks of resentment.

"Straw pope!" he exclaimed; "straw pope! the wretches, to compare me,
the legitimate Head of the Church, to a man of straw!"

"It is most infamous!" replied the chaplain; "it merits the vengeance
of heaven."

"Patience, the Milanese will pay dearly for their insolence. It needed
but this to fill the cup of Imperial anger. This city must be destroyed
and levelled with the earth. Henceforth whoever dares to intercede for
this new Nineveh, is the foe of the Church, of the Pope, and of the
Emperor."

"And the speaking-trumpet," added Alberic; "that abominable
speaking-trumpet!"

"True, I had almost forgotten that," replied Victor. "What was it they
called me? Straw Pope!--the villains! I am the true Pope, both by the
choice of the people and Imperial sanction. Yes, of course I am," he
repeated, as though wishing to persuade himself that it really was so.
"Alexander can never be more than the Cardinal Roland, for he was
neither elected by the people nor confirmed by the Emperor."

"Most certainly, there is no doubt of the fact," added Alberic,
quickly, for he knew Victor's anxiety in the matter.

"But what was it they really called me?--I think I heard the words
'Slave of the Emperor'!"

"That was what they said," my lord. "It was a ridiculous epithet, for
you, who seek to defend the prerogatives of the Church, can be slave to
no one."

These words were bitterly ironical, for Octavian remembered his base
servility to the wishes of his master Barbarossa, and