"... each looked on each:
Up in the midst a truth grew, without speech." (vol. i. p. 243.)
Palma's moment is come, and she relates the story, as she received it
from Adelaide, of Sordello's birth. With blanched lips, and sweat-drops
on his face, the old soldier takes the hand of his poet-son, and lays
its consecrating touch on his own face and brow. Then, recovering
himself, with his mailed arms on Sordello's shoulders, he launches forth
in an eager survey of the situation as it may shape itself for both.
Palma at last draws him away, and Sordello, exhausted and speechless, is
left alone. The two are in a small stone chamber, below the one they
have left. Half-drunk with his new emotions, Salinguerra paces the
narrow floor. His eyes burn; his tread strikes sparks from the stone.
The future glows before him. He and Sordello combined will break up
Hildebrand. They will rebuild Charlemagne; not in the brute force of
earlier days; but as strength adorned with knowledge, as empire imposing
law. Palma listens in satisfied repose; her task is done.
A stamp is heard overhead.