"Nonsense!" said Anselm; "all this is merely the effect of yesterday's tempest." "What a time that was, what a storm!" "Yes, and cries and groans were heard in the air." "And some people even saw a cross of fire above St. Peter's Church." "Did not the hurricane come from the direction of Gaeta? Such a thing was never known before; I tell you it was more than natural." "You are a fool, Ambrose." "Alexander is at Gaeta, and Rome may yet regret that she deserted the Head of the Church. Say what you please, that was no ordinary storm. Did you not notice in what a gloomy terrible manner it burst upon the city?" "Cheer up; mayhap you will be elected to the Senate, and the embroidered toga will soon make you forget your scruples of conscience. But here comes the procession." At this moment the bells of St. Peter began to toll. "Come to my house," said Ambrose, "we can see it so much better from the balcony." The cavalcade advanced; first came a body of knights occupying the entire width of the street; at their head rode the herald of the Empire, dressed in a splendid tabard. On either side was a standard-bearer, clad in a sumptuous costume, and glancing haughtily upon the crowd. Behind them came the serried ranks of the knights, who had laid aside their coats-of-mail, their lances, and their shields. They wore only their swords, and were all in plated armor, which shone in the rays of the August sun like a moving sea of silver. "How formidable those men of iron appear on their chargers!" said Ambrose; "how powerfully built they seem! those Germans are sturdy soldiers!" "At last they have all gone by; how many were there? Just look, how they drive the crowd back on St. Peter's Square, to form a brazen wall up to the Basilica." "Here come the bishops! Holy Virgin, how magnificently they are dressed! Anselm, count the prelates.--I want to know how many of them there are." "Do you see that one with long, black hair? That is the bishop who fought so bravely in the last attack, And that one behind him, with the red head, is the Bishop of Osnabruck,--a miserable villain!" "Yes; they all look ill-natured and wicked; they ought to be called the Emperor's spiritual knights; how they glare at everybody!--By St. Peter! I would not like to be confirmed by one of those gentlemen; they strike too hard!" During this conversation, the bishops had approached the Church; they wore brilliant mitres on their heads, and their steeds were covered with gorgeous housings. Next after the bishops came the Antipope Pascal in full Pontifical robes, surrounded by the prelates of his court. But the costume of this Head of the Church became him as little as it had done his predecessor, Octavian, and his embarrassed manner and undignified carriage formed a painful contrast with the exalted and difficult functions of the ministry which he was called upon to discharge.