XXVIII.

There are certain moments in life which seem weighted with the history

of ages--when all the past, present and future merge into the one

omnipresent Now,--moments, which if we are able to live through them

with courage, may decide a very eternity of after-glory--but which, if

we fail to comprehend their mission, pass, taking with them the last

opportunity of all good that shall ever be granted to us in this life.

Such a moment appeared, to the reflective mind of Cardinal Bonpre, to

have presented itself to him, as for the second time in ten days, he

found himself face to face with the Sovereign Pontiff, the pale and

aged man with the deep dark eyes set in such cavernous sockets, that as

they looked out on the world through that depth of shadow, seemed more

like great jewels in the head of a galvanised skeleton than the eyes of

a living human being. On this occasion the Pope was enthroned in a kind

of semi-state, on a gilded chair covered with crimson velvet; and a

rich canopy of the same material, embroidered and fringed with gold,

drooped in heavy folds above him. Attired in the usual white,--white

cassock, white skull cap, and white sash ornamented with the emblematic

keys of St. Peter, embroidered in gold thread at the ends,--his

unhandsome features, pallid as marble, and seemingly as

cold,--bloodless everywhere, even to the lips,--suggested with dreadful

exactitude a corpse in burial clothes just lifted from its coffin and

placed stiffly upright in a sitting position. Involuntarily Cardinal

Bonpre, as he made the usual necessary genuflections, thought, with a

shrinking interior sense of horror at the profanity of his own idea,

that the Holy Father as he then appeared, might have posed to a painter

of allegories, as the frail ghost of a dead Faith. For he looked so

white and slender and fragile and transparent,--he sat so rigidly, so

coldly, without a movement or a gesture, that it seemed as if the touch

of a hand might break him into atoms, so brittle and delicate a figure

of clay was he. When he spoke, his harsh voice, issuing from the long

thin lips which scarcely moved, even in utterance, was startling in its

unmelodious loudness, the more so when its intonation was querulous, as

now.

"It is regrettable, my lord Cardinal," he said slowly, keeping his dark

eyes immovably fixed on the venerable Felix,--"that I should be

compelled to send for you so soon again on the same matters which,

since your arrival in Rome, have caused me so much anxiety. This

miracle,--of which you are declared to be the worker,--though for some

inscrutable reason, you persist in denying your own act,--is not yet

properly authenticated. And, to make the case worse, it seems that the

unfortunate man, Claude Cazeau, whom we entrusted with our instructions

to the Archbishop of Rouen, has suddenly disappeared, leaving no trace.

Naturally there are strong suspicions that he has met with a violent

death,--perhaps at the hands of the Freemasons, who are ever at work

conspiring against the Faith,--or else through the intrigues of the

so-called 'Christian Democrats,' of whom 'Gys Grandit' is a leader. In

any case, it is most reprehensible that you, a Cardinal-prince of the

Church, should have permitted yourself to become involved in such a

doubtful business. The miracle may have taken place,--but if so, you

should have no cause to deny your share in it; and however much you may

be gifted with the power of healing, I cannot reconcile your duty to us

with the Vergniaud scandal! Since you were here last, I have

investigated that matter thoroughly,--I have read a full report of the

blasphemous address the Abbe preached from his pulpit in Paris, and I

cannot, no I cannot"--here the Pope raised his thin white hand with a

gesture of menace that was curiously powerful for one so seemingly

frail--"I cannot forgive or forget the part you have taken in this

deplorable affair!"

The Cardinal looked up with a touch of pain and protest.

"Holy Father, I strove to obey the command of Christ--'Forgive that ye

may be forgiven'!--I cannot be sorry that I did so obey it;--for now

the offender is beyond the reach of either punishment or absolution. He

must answer for his deeds to God alone!"

The Pope turned his eyes slowly round in his waxenlike head to

Gherardi--then to Moretti--and seeing confirmation of the news in their

looks, fixed them again as immovably as before upon the Cardinal. The

faint shadow of a cold smile flickered on his long slit-like mouth.

"Dead!" he murmured, and he nodded slowly, and beat with one finger on

the back of the other hand, as though keeping time mechanically to some

funeral march in his brain. "Dead! A fortunate thing for him! An escape

from worse than death, so far as this life is concerned! But what of

the next?--'where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched!'"

And here the representative of St. Peter smiled pallidly. "Dead!--but

his works live after him; and his sin-begotten son also lives, to

spread his pernicious writings through the world, and incite the

already disobedient to further license. Therefore the Church must still

publicly condemn his memory, as a warning to the faithful. And you,

Cardinal Bonpre, must receive from us a necessary measure of

correction, for having pardoned one who in his last discourse to

humanity attacked the Church and slandered it. To one of your eminence

and reputation, the lesson may seem hard, but a chastening reproof can

but purify the spirit, and free it from that pride which apes humility!"

The Cardinal bent his head patiently and remained silent.

Monsignor Moretti advanced a step towards the Papal throne.

"The boy"--he began.

A slight animation warmed the chill lifelessness of the Pope's

features. "True! I had almost forgotten!" he said. Then to the

Cardinal, "Where is the boy you rescued from the streets, who lives

with you, and who witnessed the miracle at Rouen?"

Manuel had till now stood aside, half hidden in the shadow of the

crimson damask which, falling from ceiling to floor in rich luxurious

folds, draped the corners of the room, but at these words he advanced

at once.

"I am here!" he said.

Fronting the Pope, with his fair head thrown back, and his blue eyes

flashing with all the soul-light of a swift, unwarped intelligence, he

stood,--and the white shrunken figure of the old man in the gilded

chair raised itself as if by some interior electric force, slowly,

slowly--higher and higher--the deep-set old eyes staring into the

brilliant youthful ones--staring--staring till they seemed to protrude

and tremble under their shelving brows, like the last sparks of a flame

about to fall into extinction. Gherardi made a quick step forward.

"My lord Cardinal!" he said significantly, "Should not your waif and

stray have been taught how to comport himself before he came here? He

does not kneel to the Holy Father!"

The Cardinal opened his lips to speak, but Manuel stayed him by a

slight gesture.

"I may not kneel to any man!" he said, "But to God only! For it is

written,' Call no man your Father upon the earth, for One is your

Father which is in Heaven. Neither be ye called Masters, for One is

your Master, even Christ.' How then," and he came nearer to the Pope's

foot-stool, "can you be called 'Father'? or 'Holy'? For there is none

Holy but God!"

The deep silence which had fallen like a spell upon them all in the

antechamber, fell now with redoubled impressiveness. The Pope, gripping

the arms of his gilded chair, forced himself fully upright, and his

lips trembled.

"Whence came you, and of what parentage are you?" he asked slowly,

enunciating his words with even more than his usual harsh distinctness.

"That is my own secret!" answered the boy--"The Cardinal accepted me

without question!"

"Which is but a fresh proof of the Cardinal's unwisdom," said the Pope

severely, "And we shall not follow his example in this or in any other

matter!" And turning to Moretti he enquired, "Does this boy understand

he is here as a witness to the miracle effected at Rouen?"

"As a witness to the Truth--yes! I understand!" said Manuel quickly,

before Moretti could answer. "The miracle was no miracle!"

"No miracle!" exclaimed the Pope, moved at last from his usual

inflexibility, "Do you hear that, Domenico?" turning excitedly to

Gherardi, "No miracle!"

"No miracle!" repeated Manuel, steadily--"Nothing but the law of Nature

working in response to the law of God, which is Love! The child was

healed of his infirmity by the power of unselfish prayer. Are we not

told 'Ask and ye shall receive'? But the asking must be pure! The

prayer must be untainted by self-interest! God does not answer prayer

that is paid for in this world's coin! No miracle was ever wrought for

a fee! Only when perfect love and perfect faith exist between the

creature and the Creator, are all things possible!"

A nervous twitching of the Pope's features showed his suppressed

irritation at this reply.

"The boy jests with us!" he said angrily, "He defends his benefactor,

but he either does not understand, or else is regardless of our

authority!"

"What, do you not also believe?" asked Manuel, placing one foot on the

first step of the Pope's throne, and looking him straightly in the

face, "Do you not even affirm that God answers prayers? Do YOU not

pray? Do you not assert that you yourself are benefited and

helped--nay, even kept alive by the prayers of the faithful? Then why

should you doubt that Cardinal Bonpre has, by his prayer, rescued one

life--the life of a little child? Is not your Church built up for

prayer? Do you not command it? Do you not even insist upon the 'vain

repetitions' which Christ forbade? Do you not summon the people to pray

in public?--though Christ bade all who truly sought to follow Him to

pray in secret? And amid all the false prayers, the unthinking, selfish

petitions, the blasphemous demands for curses and confusion to fall

upon enemies and contradictors, the cowardly cryings for pardon from

sinners who do not repent, that are sent up to the throne of the Most

High,--is it marvellous that one prayer, pure of all self and

sophistry, ascending to God, simply to ask for the life of a child

should be heard and granted?"

His voice rang through the silence with a pure intonation, unlike any

human voice in the world--and as he spoke, the Pope slowly drew back in

his chair, further and further away from the young, beautiful face that

confronted his own so steadily. The dumb sense of stupefaction that had

before possessed Gherardi and Moretti in the presence of this child,

seized them again now,--and slow tears welled up into the Cardinal's

eyes, as, clasping his withered hands, he waited in fear and awe,

listening and wondering,--overwhelmed by the strangeness of the scene.

Like a shrunken white mummy set in a gilded sarcophagus, the

representative of St. Peter huddled himself together, reflections of

the daylight on the crimson hangings around him casting occasional

gleams of crimson athwart his bony hands and cadaverous

features;--while on the first step of his throne the aerial form of the

beautiful boy, with his fair face, full flashing eyes, and radiant

hair, stood like an Angel suddenly descended at the portal of the

mummy's tomb.

"Faith must surely be weaker in these days than in the days of Christ,"

continued Manuel, "The disciples were not always wise or brave; but

they believed in the power of their Master! You,--with so many

centuries of prayer behind you,--will surely not say as John

did--'Master, we saw one casting out devils in Thy name, and he

followeth not us!' Because this miracle is unexpected and exceptional,

do you say of your good Cardinal, 'He followeth not us'? Remember how

Christ answered,--'Forbid him not, for there is no man which shall do a

miracle in my name that can speak evil of me!'"

Still the same silence reigned. A shaft of sunlight falling through the

high oriel window, touched the boy's hair with a Pentecostal flame of

glory.

"You sent for me," he went on, "and I have come! They say I must be

taught. Will you teach me? I would know many things! Tell me for one,

why are You here, shut away from the cities, and the people? Should you

not be among them? Why do you stay here all alone? You must be very

unhappy!"

A sudden quivering light illumined the jewel-like dark eyes of the

seeming mummy in the chair--its lips moved--but no sound came from them.

"To be here all alone!" went on Manuel, "And a whole world outside

waiting to be comforted! To have vast wealth lying about you

unused--with millions and millions of poor, starving, struggling, dying

creatures, near at hand, cursing the God whom they have never been

taught to know or to bless! To be safely sheltered while others are in

danger! To know that even kings and emperors are trembling on their

thrones because of the evil days that are drawing near in punishment

for evil deeds!--to feel the great pulsating ache of the world's heart

beating through every hour of time, and never to stretch forth a hand

of consolation! Surely this must make you very sad! WILL YOU NOT COME

OUT WITH ME?"

With a strong effort the Pope raised himself and looked into the

pleading Angel-face. With his sudden movement, Gherardi and Moretti

also stirred from their frozen attitudes of speechless amazement, and

would have approached, but that the Pope signed them away with so

fierce and impatient a gesture that they shrank back appalled. And

still he gazed at Manuel as if his very soul were passing through his

eyes.

"Come out with you!" he said, in a hoarse, faint whisper--"Come out

with you!"

"Yes!--come out with me!" repeated Manuel, his accents vibrating with a

strange compelling sweetness, "Come out and see the poor lying at the

great gates of St. Peter's--the lame, the halt, the blind--come and

heal them by a touch, a prayer! You can, you must, you shall heal

them!--if you WILL! Pour money into the thin hands of the

starving!--come with me into the miserable places of the world,--come

and give comfort! Come freely into the courts of kings, and see how the

brows ache under the crowns!--and the hearts break beneath the folds of

velvet and ermine! Why stand in the way of happiness, or deny even

emperors peace when they crave it? Your mission is to comfort, not to

condemn! You need no throne! You want no kingdom!--no settled place--no

temporal power! Enough for you to work and live as the poorest of all

Christ's ministers,--without pomp, without ostentation or public

ceremonial, but simply clothed in pure holiness! So shall God love you

more! So shall you pass unscathed through the thick of battle, and

command Brotherhood in place of Murder! Go out and welcome

Progress!--take Science by the hand!--encourage Intellect!--for all

these things are of God, and are God's gifts divine! Live as Christ

lived, teaching the people personally and openly;--loving them, pitying

them, sharing their joys and sorrows, blessing their little children!

Deny yourself to no man;--and make of this cold temple in which you now

dwell selfimprisoned, a home and refuge for the friendless and the

poor! COME OUT WITH ME!"

As he thus spoke, with a living, breathing enthusiasm of entreaty,

which might have moved even the dry bones in the valley of the

prophet's vision to rise up and become a great standing army, the

Pope's figure seemed to grow more and more attenuated,--his worn white

hands grasping the gilt arms of his chair, looked like the claws of a

dead bird--and his face, shrunken and withered, like a Chinese ivory

carving of some forgotten idol.

"Come out with me and minister with your own hands to the aged and

dying!" pursued Manuel, "And so shall you grow young! Command that the

great pictures, the tapestries, the jewels, the world's trash of St.

Peter's, be sold to the rich, who can afford to set them in free and

open places where all the poorest may possess them! But do not You

retain them! You do not need them--your treasure must be sympathy for

all the world! Not ONE section of the world,--not ONE form of

creed,--but for all!--if you are truly the Dispenser of Christ's

Message to the earth! Come--unprotected, save by the Cross! Come with

no weapon of defence--'heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the

dead, cast out devils! Freely ye have received, freely give! Provide

neither gold nor silver nor brass in your purse,'--come, and by your

patience--your gentleness--your pardon--your love to all men, show that

'the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand!' Walk fearless in the thick of

battles, and your very presence shall engender peace! For the Holy

Spirit shall surround and encompass you; the fiercest warriors shall

bend before you, as they never would if you assumed a world's throne or

a world's sovereignty! Come, uncrowned, defenceless;--but strong in the

Spirit of God! Think of all the evil which has served as the foundation

for this palace in which you dwell! Can you not hear in the silence of

the night, the shrieks of the tortured and dying of the Inquisition? Do

you never think of those dark days, ten and twelve hundred years after

Christ, when no virtue seemed left upon the earth?--when the way to

this very throne was paved by poison and cold steel?--when those who

then reigned here, and occupied Your place, led such infamous lives

that the very dogs might have been ashamed to follow in their

footsteps!--when they professed to be able to sell the Power of the

Holy Ghost for so much gold and silver? Remember the words, 'Whoso

shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost it shall not be forgiven him,

either in this world or in the world to come.' Look back upon the

Past--and look out upon the Present! Try to understand the sufferings

of the forsaken people!--the pain--the bewilderment--the groping for

life in death!--and come out with me! Come and preach Christ as He

lived and died, and WAS, and IS! COME OUT WITH ME!"

The dreadful, dumb spell remained unbroken. The loom seemed invested

with a strange solemnity--the figures of the human beings in it were

like images frozen into rigidity--even Cardinal Bonpre appeared

stricken by this mental paralysis, and not a fold of his rich attire

stirred with so much as a pulsation of natural breath. Only Manuel

seemed truly alive--his slight boyish figure was instinct with

ardour--his face was radiant, and his eyes brilliant as stars. And now,

withdrawing himself a little from the motionless creature seated

stiffly on the Papal throne, with its deep, dark eyes alone giving sign

of life by their unwearied stare and feverish glitter, he raised his

head with a royal gesture of mingled appeal and warning.

"Come out with me!" he exclaimed, "For there are wonderful things in

the world to-day!--wonderful, beautiful, and terrible! Take your share

in them, and find God in every glory! For with all the wisdom and the

splendour,--with all the flashing light of Heaven poured out upon the

darkness of the Sorrowful Star, its people are weary,--they are lost in

the confusion and clamour of their own desires--they would fain serve

God, but know not where to find Him, because a thousand, aye a million

churches stand in the way!--churches, which are like a forest of dark

trees, blocking out the radiance of the Sun! God, who manifests His

power and tenderness in the making of the simplest leaf, the smallest

bird, is lost to the understanding and affection of humanity in the

multitude of Creeds! Come out with me,--simple and pure, gentle and

strong! Tell all the lost and the wandering that there never was, and

never will be but one God supreme and perfect, whose name is Love,

whose work is Love!--and whose Messenger, Christ, pronounced the New

Commandment Love instead of Hate! Come out with me while it is yet day,

for the night cometh when no man can work! Come and lift up the world

by your very coming! Stretch out your hands in benediction over kings

and beggars alike!--there are other roses to give than Golden ones to

Queens! There are poor women who share half they earn with those still

poorer--there are obscure lives which in their very obscurity, are

forming the angel-nature, and weaving the angel's crown!--look for

these in the world--give THEM your Golden Roses! Leave rulers and

governments alone, for you should be above and beyond all rulers and

governments! You should be the Herald of peace,--the Pardoner of sin,

the Rescuer of the fallen, and the Refuge of the distressed! Come out

with me, and be all this to the world, so that when the Master comes He

may truly find you working in His vineyard!"

Another dead pause ensued. Not a sound, not a breath disturbed the

heavy silence which seemed to have grown deeper than before. And

Manuel, looking eagerly again and closely into the Pope's face, went on

with increasing ardour and passion.

"Come out with me!" he said, "Or if you will not come,--then beware of

the evil days which are at hand! The people are wandering to and fro,

crossing all lands, struggling one against the other, hoarding up

useless gold, and fighting for supremacy!--but 'the day of the Lord

shall come like a thief in the night, and blessed is he who shall be

found watching!' Watch! The hour is growing dark and full of

menace!--the nations are as frightened children, losing faith, losing

hope, losing strength! Put away,--put away from you the toys of

time!--quench in your soul the thirst for gold, for of this shall come

nothing but corruption! Why trifle with the Spirit of holy things? Why

let your servants use the Name of the Most High to cover hypocrisy? Why

crave for the power of temporal things which passes away in the dust of

destroyed kingdoms? For the Power of the Spirit is greater than all!

And so it shall be proved! The Spirit shall work in ways where it has

never been found before!--it shall depart from the Churches which are

unworthy of its Divine inspiration!--it shall invest the oaths of

Science!--it shall open the doors of the locked stars! It shall display

the worlds invisible;--the secrets of men's hearts, and of closed

graves!--there will be terror and loss and confusion and shame to

mankind,--and this world shall keep nothing of all its treasures but

the Cross of Christ! Rome, like Babylon, shall fall!--and the Powers of

the Church shall be judged as the Powers of Darkness rather than of

Light, because they have rejected the Word of their Master, and 'teach

for doctrine the commandments of men!' Disaster shall follow swift upon

disaster, and the cup of trembling shall be drained again to its last

dregs, as in the olden days, unless,--unless perchance--you will come

out with me!"

With the last words a sort of galvanic shock seemed to be imparted to

the rigid figure in the chair. Springing upright suddenly, his voice

rang out like a clarion, discordantly yet clearly.

"In the name of God," he cried, "Who and what is this boy! How came he

with Cardinal Bonpre? And you, Domenico!--do you stand by and permit

this affront to me!--the living Head of the Church! From a child!--a

tramp of the streets!--who dares to speak to me!--who dares to

reproach, to prophesy--aye, to blaspheme! and teach Me,--"

"As One having authority,--and not as the Scribes!" said Manuel, with

one swift flashing glance, which like a shaft of lightning seemed to

pierce through flesh and bone,--for, as he met that radiant and

commanding look, the jewel-like eyes of the Pope lost their lustre and

became fixed and glassy,--he put his hand to his throat with a choking

gasp for breath,--and like a dead body which had only been kept in

place by some secret mechanical action, he fell back in his chair

senseless, his limbs stretching themselves out with a convulsive

shudder into stark immovability.

Gherardi started from his stupor, and rushed to his assistance, ringing

the bell violently which summoned the valet from the antechamber,--and

Moretti, with a fierce oath, pushing Manuel aside, rushed to the chair

in which the Pope's fainting figure lay,--all was confusion;--and in

the excitement and terror which had overwhelmed Cardinal Bonpre at the

unprecedented scene, Manuel suddenly touched him on the arm.

"Follow me!" he said, "We are no longer needed here! Come!--let us go

hence!"

Hardly knowing what he did the old man obeyed, trembling in every limb

as Manuel, grasping him firmly by the hand, led him from the apartment,

and on through the winding corridors of the huge building, out into the

open air. No one questioned them,--no one interfered with their

progress. Benediction was being sung in one of the many chapels of St.

Peter's, and the solemn sound of the organ reached them, softened and

mellowed by distance, as they stood on the steps of the Vatican, where

the Cardinal, pausing to recover breath and equanimity, gazed at his

strange foundling in alarm and bewilderment.

"Manuel!" he murmured feebly, "Child!--what have you done!"

"Only what I am bound to do!" replied Manuel simply, "I have said no

more than it is right to say, if Christ's words are true! Dear friend,

be at peace! You will not suffer misjudgment long!"

The music stealing out from the distant chapel, floated round them in

large circles of solemn melody,--and the glow of sunset lit the clear

sky with a warm red radiance, flecked with golden clouds of glory.

"He would not come with me!" said Manuel, with a slight gesture

backward to the sombre portals they had just passed, "And he will never

come! But YOU will!"

And smiling,--with his fair face turned to the radiant sky,--he rested

his hand lightly on the Cardinal's arm as they descended the broad

marble steps, and left the great Palace of the Popes together.