The chaplain of the castle alone remained calm, in the midst of the general confusion. Evidently, some unusual occurrence condemned him to idleness, for his callous hands showed that his occupations were not purely intellectual. The servants generally abandoned to him everything which they refused to do, and his appearance was rather that of a stable-boy than an ecclesiastic. Although he had received but a limited education, Rainulph felt the impropriety of such behavior, and often complained that his spiritual functions were not regarded with becoming reverence. But his murmurs rarely reached the Count's ear, and when they did, little attention was paid to them; for Haro, always at Court, knew too well the Emperor's course towards the Pope to be respectful to his own chaplain. "Since the Pope," he told him, "obeys Frederic's orders, you must make up your mind to do as I tell you." But the chaplain of Rivoli was suddenly aroused from his inactivity by a shrill voice. "How is this, sluggard?" cried the angry steward; "the stable is not swept yet, everything is out of place, and the horses of His Majesty and the Court will be here directly!" "I don't care," answered Rainulph; "the manure may stay there; I shall not touch it!" The steward could not believe his ears. The conduct of the formerly submissive chaplain seemed inexplicable. "Are you mad? Have you not done that work a hundred times?" "Yes, and more too! You have made me do the most menial drudgery, and I have complained in vain; but it is different to-day." "I suppose that you hardly intend to appeal to the Emperor?" sneered the other. "You will make a fine thing of it. Don't you know, fool, that the Pope and the bishops are as much the servants of the Emperor as the chaplains are of the Castellan? I tell you it is the custom!" "It is a bad custom, an impious custom! Priests were not ordained to clean out stables, but to discharge their sacred calling." "Ah! what a noble transport! Wait a minute, till I teach you your duty!" At that moment a horseman dashed up, and announced that the prelates were close at hand. The steward raised his eyes to heaven, tore his hair, ordered the chaplain to be locked up in one of the towers, and, entering the castle, mounted upon a turret. "May all the saints aid me!" he cried, as he saw the valley shining with helmets, and lances, and armor. "What! it is a whole army!--an army of knights and counts! How am I to lodge all these in Rivoli, where there is scarcely room for twenty lords with their retinues? It is impossible; they cannot all come here! They must be blind not to see that the castle cannot hold them, even were I to stow some of the knights in the barns and the cellars. No! it is not possible! But let us see: they are at the foot of the hill. Ah! the men-at-arms halt, and are letting the prelates take the lead. Quick, Romano, quick! put on your finest suit, the newest you have. To-day you must be marshal of the palace."