unched against Alexander, while some
of the insurgents even went so far as to shout, through the loopholes
in the walls, words of encouragement to the enemy.

At last Frederic stormed a portion of the works, and burned the church
of Santa Maria della Torre; the conflagration spread, and the vestibule
of the dome of Saint Peter was destroyed.

From the summit of St. Angelo, the Pope saw the flames surround the
tomb of the prince of the Apostles; but although his face glowed with
indignation, and his lips trembled with emotion at the sacrilege, he
remained undaunted in his resolution to endure every trial in the
interest of the Church. He wept, and his tears were doubtless carried
to the foot of the eternal throne of God, where they pleaded for pity
and forgiveness.

After the capture of the Vatican, Barbarossa attacked the castle of San
Angelo, but the assault failed. Several other positions were also in
the possession of the Papal troops, but a longer resistance seemed of
no avail. It was useless to remain in a city the people of which was
hostile.

Alexander saw the precarious condition of the desecrated Church, and
resigning himself to his fate, determined to seek safety in flight. But
the enemy had evidently foreseen the contingency, and every disposition
had been made to prevent the escape of the Pontiff.

A cordon of troops was drawn around the citadel; these were doubled
after nightfall, and so great was the importance which the Emperor
attached to the Pope's capture, that none but Germans were detailed on
the service, for Frederic had little confidence in his Italian
mercenaries.

The gigantic castle of Saint Angelo rose towards heaven, and the gilded
statue of St. Michael glittered upon its summit. The helmeted sentinels
in full armor, their lances poised upon their shoulders, paced the
bridge with measured tread. At times they looked towards the castle,
then upon the river, and then towards the distant horizon; for they
knew that the Pope would seek to escape.

Further on, a strong detachment of soldiers were sleeping on the
ground, with their helmets and lances carefully piled near them. Among
these might have been seen the knight Goswin and the tailor Guerrazzi,
who were engaged in earnest conversation.

The frankness of the worthy German found little to sympathize with in
the crafty Italian; but Guerrazzi, who never lost the opportunity of
showing his zeal for the Emperor, had offered to keep him c