discontent or ill humor; his sorrow was only that of a tender father
mourning over the errors of a loved, though wayward child.

Near him stood Conrad of Wittelsbach, the deposed Archbishop of
Mayence, a prelate of grave and dignified demeanor, whose features
indicated firmness and energy. His efforts to bring about a
reconciliation between Alexander and Frederic had been fruitless; the
angry Emperor looked upon the Pope as the only obstacle to peace, and
his renunciation of the pontifical throne was the essential condition
on which he insisted.

"Poor misguided people; what a tumult!" said Alexander. "Hark how they
cheer for the Emperor! What terrible ingratitude!"

"The Romans in this respect differ in no way from the rest of mankind,
most Holy Father. To-day they cry Hosanna! to-morrow, Death! But it
seems as though they were coming to see us," added Conrad; "the crowd
is pressing in this direction."

In fact the mob, under the leadership of Guerrazzi and other
demagogues, was moving towards the castle, and already the shouts of
"Long live the Emperor!" were heard uttered with such violence that
they even reached the Imperial camp. On the bridge the people stopped
and glared at the portcullis with an air of hatred and defiance.
Frangipani the governor of Saint Angelo, at once repaired to the
presence of the Holy Father, to inquire if he would receive the
tribunes of the Roman people.

"The tribunes of the Roman people?" repeated Alexander, with surprise.

"The designation appeared to me as extraordinary as it does to your
Holiness," replied the soldier; "but, however it may be, the so-called
tribunes of the Roman people desire an audience of your Holiness."

"Alas!" exclaimed the Pope, "their blindness is even greater than
I supposed. However, let them come, I will receive them in the
council-chamber."

A dense crowd entered the castle and were led by Frangipani to the room
which had been designated. The pontifical court had adjourned but a few
minutes before, and the cardinals' chairs were still around a long
table, at the upper end of which stood the throne of St. Peter. Along
the walls were shelves covered with books and parchments, for the
archives of the Church had accompanied the Pope in his flight.

As soon as the last tribune had entered, the doors were closed and
guarded by the soldiers, whose measured steps along the corridors,
joined to the clank of their armor, produced a marked impression upon