all his soldiers and courtiers and
servants,--a great procession of horsemen and footmen. Never had been
a gayer sight than the grand train, men in bright armor, riders in
wonderful cloaks of velvet and silk, servants, carrying marvelous
presents to the Pope. And at the very end rode Robert, the jester.
His horse was a poor old thing, many-colored, and the ape rode with
him. Every one in the villages through which they passed ran after the
jester, and pointed and laughed.

The Pope received his brothers and their trains in the square before
Saint Peter's. With music and flags and flowers he made the King of
Sicily welcome, and greeted him as his brother. In the midst of it,
the jester broke through the crowd and threw himself before the Pope.
"Look at me!" he cried; "I am your brother, Robert of Sicily! This man
is an impostor, who has stolen my throne. I am Robert, the king!"

The Pope looked at the poor jester with pity, but the Emperor of
Allemaine turned to the King of Sicily, and said, "Is it not rather
dangerous, brother, to keep a madman as jester?" And again Robert was
pushed back among the serving-men.

It was Holy Week, and the king and the emperor, with all their trains,
went every day to the great services in the cathedral. Something
wonderful and holy seemed to make all these services more beautiful
than ever before. All the people of Rome felt it: it was as if the
presence of an angel were there. Men thought of God, and felt his
blessing on them. But no one knew who it was that brought the
beautiful feeling. And when Easter Day came, never had there been so
lovely, so holy a day: in the great churches, filled with flowers, and
sweet with incense, the kneeling people listened to the choirs singing,
and it was like the voices of angels; their prayers were more earnest
than ever before, their praise more glad; there was something heavenly
in Rome.

Robert of Sicily went to the services with the rest, and sat in the
humblest place with the servants. Over and over again he heard the
sweet voices of the choirs chant the Latin words he had heard long ago:
"He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted them of
low degree." And at last, as he listened, his heart was softened. He,
too, felt the strange blessed presence of a heavenly power. He thought
of God, and of his own wickedness; he remembered how happy he had been,
and how little good he had done; he realized, that his powe