llowed his example. Otto,
Welf, Berthold, ranged themselves on the same side, and amid universal
acclamations Rodolph was proclaimed king.

Something still remained--the Papal confirmation. There were some who
were sad and mute amid the general rejoicings, and among them was Father
Omehr. In vain had he implored Rodolph to postpone the session, at least
until the appointed time would arrive: the King of Arles regarded the
delay as suicidal. In vain, too, he conjured the legates to refuse their
approval, at least until May, and begged them, with tears in his eyes,
not to give the signal for civil war. All the princes and a majority of
the bishops conceived that the denial of the Apostolic benediction would
destroy the hopes of the Church party. They beheld in themselves the
champions of the Church, and identified their own welfare with that of
the Holy See; they believed that Gregory was only restrained by
circumstances from granting the prayers of those who had sworn never to
desert him; they maintained that although the Pope might not have
permitted the election, he could not refuse to sanction their choice
after it had been made. Moved by these passionate representations, and,
perhaps, expecting to please the Sovereign Pontiff, the legates yielded,
and confirmed the election of Rodolph.

When Rodolph heard that he had been called to the throne he shut himself
up in his room and sent for Father Omehr. Scarce a minute elapsed before
the missionary stood at his side. They gazed at each other in silence
for some moments. The duke's lips were compressed, and his brow gathered
into a deep frown. Mingled sorrow and hope were portrayed in the
missionary's face, and his breast heaved with excitement.

"I am king!" said Rodolph, in a whisper, still scanning the priest, as
though he would read his soul.

"Not yet!" was the reply.

"Who can prevent it?"

"God!"

"Most humbly would I submit to His gracious interposition," said the
duke, bending his head devoutly; "but can any human power prevent it?"

"Yourself!"

Rodolph buried his face in his hands and with rapid, nervous gestures
paced up and down the small apartment.

"Hear me!" he exclaimed, suddenly leading Father Omehr to a chair, and
taking a seat beside him. "Hear me!" he repeated, bending forward until
his lips almost touched his companion's ear, and the veins swelled in
his throat and temples:

"I have toiled and sighed and prayed for this! Day after day,