, and the choir sang,
but the melody found no echo in the hearts of the Romans.

The conviction that the schismatic Pascal was a mere tool of the
Emperor, and that this assembly was composed of bishops who were aliens
to the Church, wounded all their preconceived ideas. They feared lest
the vengeance of God should come to punish this usurpation of Saint
Peter's chair. Many again tried to leave the church, but the crowd
without choked up all egress.

The Emperor placed his right hand (which had borne the sceptre) upon
his knee, and each bishop kissed it as he passed, but he scarcely
perceived their presence. His haughty soul was floating in an ocean of
gratified pride. At last he was seated in that place which Alexander
once had occupied, and where his predecessors used to receive the
homage of Christendom. What a change! Alexander was a helpless
fugitive, and Pascal was his creature, his puppet; he himself was the
real _Pontifex Maximus_. Absolute master of Church and State, he was at
last at the pinnacle of greatness; success had crowned his efforts; all
Christendom was his vassal. He glanced towards the kneeling bishops,
and then his eyes turned to the crowd as if he could no longer delay
the moment when they too should swear him their allegiance.

But God has not yet given to mortals the power to thwart his designs.
If for a time he allows the wicked man to prosper, it is to cut him off
at the decisive moment of his career.

The hand of the Almighty was raised against the master of the world:
the cup was full, and at the very moment when Barbarossa was dreaming
of new conquests, the avenging angel hovered around his head.

The ceremony was nearly at an end.

Frederic turned towards the Pope, as if to say:

"Well then, speak, repeat the lesson which I have taught you."

It appeared as though the sermon which had been prepared and revised by
the Emperor, was not to Pascal's liking; still he dared not disobey his
master's sign--he descended from the altar. Again the music ceased, and
a profound silence prevailed through the church, where all listened
anxiously for what the Imperial Pope was to say.

But Pascal was not to speak.

Scarcely was he in front of the altar, when an extraordinary movement
commenced in the crowd; here and there persons fell lifeless. It seemed
as though death was smiting its chosen victims. At first it was thought
to be merely the result of fainting-fits, so often met with in crowded