“Traitor! what has brought you here? Do you know the ambassadors of Charles and Ferdinand, fortified by the queen’s appeal and protest, have overthrown all I had accomplished at Rome with so much precaution and difficulty? Why have you not foreseen these contingencies, and known that the Pope would prove inflexible? Why have you not advised me against undertaking an almost impossible thing, which will sully the honor of my name and obscure for all time the glory of my reign.” “Stop, sire,” replied Wolsey; “I do not deserve these cruel reproaches. You can readily recall how earnestly I endeavored to dissuade you from your purpose, but all my efforts were vain.” “It is false!” cried the king, giving vent to his rage in the most shocking and violent expressions he could command, to inflict upon his minister. “And now,” he continued, “remember well, if you fail to extort from your legate such a decision as I require, you shall speedily be taught what it is to deride my commands.” * * * * * The sun had scarcely risen above the horizon when already Cardinal Campeggio (whose age and infirmities had not changed the long habits of an austere and laborious life) was silently kneeling in the midst of the choir of the palace chapel. The velvet cushions of his _prie-dieu_ protected him from the cold marble of the sacred pavement, while the rays of the rising sun, descending in luminous jets through the arches of the antique windows, fell on the head of the venerable old man, giving him the appearance of being surrounded by a halo of celestial light. His eyes were cast down, and he seemed to be entirely absorbed in pious and profound meditation. Other thoughts, however, intruded on his agitated mind, and filled him with anxious apprehension. “The hour rapidly approaches,” he mentally exclaimed--“the hour when it will be essential to come to a decision. I have still hoped to receive a reply--it has not yet arrived. I alone am made responsible, and doubtless the wrath of the king will burst upon my head. His vengeance will be terrible. More than once already he has taken occasion to manifest it. What cruel incertitude! What dreadful suspense! Yet what shall be done? Speak! O my conscience!” he exclaimed, “let me listen, and be guided by thy voice alone!” “Despise the power of the king who demands of thee an injustice,” immediately replied that faithful monitor whose stern and inflexible voice will be summoned to testify against us at the last judgment. “Sayest thou, thou art afraid? Then thou hast forgotten that the last even of those gray hairs still remaining to thee cannot fall without the permission of him who created the universe. Know that the anger of man is but as a vain report--a sound that vanishes in space; and that God permits thee not to hesitate for one instant, O judge! when the cause of the feeble and the innocent claims all the strength of thy protection.”