They found it in the old sarcophagus, which was now almost lost in
leaves. The eggs had been hatched, and the fledglings, with eyes not yet
opened, stretched their featherless necks and opened their beaks when
the Pope put down his hand to touch them.
"Monsignor," said the Pope over his shoulder, "remind me to-morrow to
ask the gardener for some worms."
The cat, from his prison under the Pope's arm, was watching the
squirming nest with hungry eyes.
"Naughty Meesh! Naughty!" said the Pope, shaking one finger in the cat's
face. "But Meesh is only following the ways of his kind, and perhaps I
was wrong to let him see the quarry."
The Pope and the Capuchin walked back to the Vatican for joy of the
sweet spring evening with its scent of flowers and song of birds.
"You are sad to-day, Father Pifferi," said the Pope.
"I'm still thinking of that poor lady," said the Capuchin.
At the first hour of night the Pope attended the recitation of the
rosary in his private chapel, and then returning to his private study, a
room furnished with a table and two chairs, he took a light supper,
served by Cortis in the evening dress of a civilian. His only other
company was the cat, which sat on a chair on the opposite side of the
table. After supper he wrote a letter. It ran:
"SIRE,--Your Minister informs us that through official channels he
has received warning of a plot against your life, and believing
that we can give information that will help him to defeat so vile
a conspiracy, he asks us for a special audience. It is not within
our power to promise more assistance than we have already given;
but this is to say that if your Majesty yourself should wish to
see us, we shall be pleased to receive you, with or without your
Minister, if you will come in private and otherwise unattended, at
the hour of 21-1/2 on Holy Thursday, to the door of the Canons'
House of St. Peter's, where the bearer of this message will be
waiting to conduct you to the Sacristy.
"Nil timendum nisi a Deo.
Pius P.P.X."
XII
The ceremonies in St. Peter's on Maundy Thursday exceeded in pomp and
magnificence anything that could be remembered in Rome.
It was a great triumph for the Church. In the face of the anti-religious
Governments of Europe she had proved that the mightiest sentiment of the
people was the sentiment of religion.
The Papal Court was proud of itself. Some of its members made no effort
to conceal their delight at the blow they had struck at the ruling
classes. But there was one man in Rome who felt no joy in his triumph.
It was the Pope.