"By rights, you know, I ought to walk with Orso, just before the ambassadors. Does Orso know about this walking business?" "No. Only of the incoronation." "That means that there will be no formal procession. It is well. You see, as Pilastro, I walk with Orso in the Pope's progress: while, as Syndic of Rome, I ought to walk at the head of the pontifical pages who precede His Blessedness. I can't do both, can I? Well, I request Your Splendour to convey my respects to our Holy Father; and to say that Prince Pilastro will assist at the throne during the incoronation, and the Syndic of Rome will go before the Pope to Lateran." "You will not take the chance of coming to blows with Prince Orso on the question of precedence then?" joked the bishop. "But no. During the incoronation I shall secure the right hand; and the Pope will be between us. Afterward, no question of precedence will arise, because Orso may or may not join in this promenade to Lateran; and in each case the Syndic will have the more honourable position. I may not be the rose: but at least I shall be near the Rose--a great deal nearer than Orso," punned the versatile Marcantonio. At eight in the morning, Hadrian descended to St. Peter's. Miscellaneous multitudes paved the spaces with tumultuous eyes. He came down in ruddy vesture, gleaming with rubies and garnets and carbuncles like a fire borne high above the crowd, slowly, deliberately, dropping benedictions. His English phlegm was much admired. They roared at Him, _Long live the Pope-King_. Instantly He stopped His bearers; and the very air of Him struck sudden silence. People stared, and forgot to shout: the wave of acclamation ebbed in the great nave and transepts. He moved onward, sitting erect, god-like, with a frozen mien prohibiting personal homage. Mitred and enthroned, He was the servant of those who would serve Him: that was the import of His demeanour. A child acolyth of the lowest rank held up before him a salver containing flax: set it on fire; and shrilled, "Behold most Holy Father, how that the glory of this world passeth away." His features shewed no emotion. He well knew all about that. He was accepting, even insisting on, the observance of all rites to consolidate Him in the Supreme Pontificature: not that He cared for them, but that He might be free to act. It was not the glory of the world which He craved: but the combat, the combat--because one rests so much more sweetly after strife.