ant, for my resignation, while striking terror into
our ranks, will infuse new courage into his. Then would I see my
allies--the friends whom I seduced into rebellion and then
abandoned--destroyed in detail--pursued, hunted down, exiled, and
martyred before my eyes. No! come what may, I must accept."

"What is your situation now," rejoined the missionary, "that you have
anything else to expect than defeat and disgrace? You know the
emperor--you have seen his dauntless courage, his consummate skill, his
desperate resolution. You know that he is at the head of an army more
numerous and better disciplined than your own. And you must also clearly
foresee that if the Pope--as he certainly will--shall condemn the policy
of his legates, your efforts will want the principle of life which alone
can bless them with success."

"If the prospect now is bad," said Rodolph, solemnly, "delay can only
make it worse. And I believe that, could His Holiness see what is
evident to us, he would command me to accept the crown, and place it
with his own hands upon my head."

"You are mistaken--wofully mistaken, my lord. While a hope of averting
anarchy and civil war remains, Gregory will not adopt the surest means
of inflicting both. Trust in God for the future! Do not pursue what to
the mole-blind vision of humanity seems expedient, when certain
bloodshed is the result! Humble yourself before Him who alone can exalt
and lay low! Confide in the efficacy of prayer! Think not that God will
desert His Church or her champions!"

"I do trust in the future," answered the duke, "but not until I have
embraced what reason dictates for the present."

"Do you hold your reason more enlightened than that of His Holiness?"

"He cannot see what I see. Urge me no more! It is too late to recede. I
know well what dangers I incur by accepting the crown--and what disgrace
I should earn in refusing it. Did I consult my inclinations, I should
renounce the glittering ornament: but I will not have men to point at me
covertly, and say, 'He faltered!' I will not endanger the noble barons
who have devoted themselves to my advancement. If I have sinned in
alluring them thus far, I will not deepen my guilt by betraying them.
Though I knew that the crown which I am about to assume were like the
gift of Medea, I would still set it on my temples: better pay the
penalty of ambition by advancing than by timidly retreating, when
boldness may remedy, and retreat is certain