The ceremony was to take place at eleven o’clock, but at ten Irene drove up to the Vatican, hoping to be one of the first to arrive. Alas! an extended line of carriages had already long been blocking the way to the Portone di Bronzo, and, advancing slowly one by one, setting down ladies in black lace and gentlemen in dress clothes. Like Irene, they had all counted on arriving first, and all contemplated, with undisguised astonishment, the dense crowd slowly making its way up the stairs. The predominating impression among this crowd was far less one of religious emotion than of excited curiosity. There were many Americans and Germans, who had come to see a rare sight, in order to boast about it later on in their own countries. The eyes of these tourists sparkled with delight as they gazed at the papal guards, who, in their mediæval costumes and their peculiar hats, looked as if they had just stepped out of pictures, as indeed did also the papal lackeys, in cherry-coloured brocade, with silk stockings and buckled shoes. Irene loved the Vatican. This mediæval fortress, with its numberless houses, towers, courtyards, cemeteries, and gardens appealed strongly to her imagination. She loved, perhaps most of all, the splendid halls with their frescoes and their beautiful antique statues. This, she thought, was _true_ luxury, in comparison with which the luxury of modern palaces, with their commonplace silk-panelled walls and their carpets and pictures, grew pale and seemed almost vulgar. In the magnificent halls of the Vatican the walls and ceilings were covered with frescoes by Raphael and Michael Angelo, and the ornaments consisted of antique porphyry sarcophagi, ancient mosaics, such as have never been equalled in more modern times, and colossal marble vases and fonts, excavated from ancient baths and shrines. Modern art has been able to add nothing to all these priceless treasures.