One spring day at Imola, while the Carnival was roaring through the streets, the Archbishop was down on his knees in the church praying for his people that they might not sin in their mirth. Alas, even his fervent prayers could not altogether avert that calamity! A sudden tumult of cries and footsteps came from the sacristy, and he rushed thither to almost fall over a young man who lay gasping in his blood on the pavement. At the same moment his pursuers broke in after him—three men with knives in their hands, furiously intent on finishing their victim. The Cardinal instantly placed himself before him, and, holding up the gold cross which he wore on his breast, forbade them to come a step nearer. In a torrent of burning eloquence he reproached them with their atrocious cruelty and the sacrilege of which they had been guilty, and ordered them to quit the church. They stood for a moment cowed and broken, then they fled, and he turned to the poor boy on the ground. Very tenderly he knelt down beside him, and soothed and comforted him, pillowing his bleeding neck on his arm, while the attendants who had arrived on the scene ran for a physician. The latter came promptly, but said that the wound was mortal—there was nothing to be done. Then, still kneeling on the ground and holding the poor dying boy in his arms, the Cardinal helped him to make his confession, called one of the priests of the church to administer the last Sacraments, and knelt there till the young soul passed away, comforted and at peace. Where injuries or insults were offered to himself, Cardinal Mastai forgave as only the Saints can forgive. The chief magistrate of Imola, a hard and cruel man, had conceived the most bitter hatred of him for his gentle methods and broad, progressive views, and expressed his hostility with much violence. The Mayor’s wife, a good, devout woman, was much distressed at his attitude, and sought by every means in her power to heal the one-sided feud. A child was born to her, and she secretly begged the Cardinal to volunteer to be its godfather—she was sure her husband’s heart would be softened at such an evidence of condescension and goodwill! Nothing loath, the good Cardinal approached the Mayor personally, and with much gentleness and humility asked if he would permit him to stand sponsor for the baby. Whereupon the Mayor flew into a passion and exclaimed: “You! You presume to suggest such a thing! You, who are a friend of malcontents and rebels! No, indeed! You are too liberal for me!” Then he turned his back on his Archbishop and left him—a suppliant refused! [Illustration: PIUS THE NINTH. In later life.]