Father Ignatius was in a dilemma. Knowing--as I supposed--his old _protégé's_ passionate nature, he feared that a command for the artist to retire might provoke an outburst of rage that would profane the sacred solemnity. He hesitated to speak, and so this singular tableau continued some moments longer, and people looked at each other, wondering how it was going to end. Suddenly the deep hush and awe that lay on all was broken. Sweetly, solemnly, from some hidden portion of the chancel, in tones as clear as a silver bell, the voice of a woman arose. She was singing a sacred solo; and the words directed none to draw near the altar but those whose consciences were pure, whose lives were holy. The effect of this music was thrilling in the extreme. Whether applicable or not to the would-be communicant, certain it was that his whole figure quivered like an aspen, and his head sank still lower on the chancel-rails. The solo did not form part of Mozart's Mass, and I could not help thinking afterwards that Father Ignatius had previously directed that the words should be sung in the event of the artist's presenting himself at the altar. Still Angelo did not stir; and the deacon glanced at Father Ignatius, as if apprehensive of a disturbance. That ecclesiastic staved off the difficulty for a time by motioning the attendants to bring forward a second line of communicants, who, advancing to the chancel, knelt some on one side of Angelo, some on the other. Would the priest ignore the artist a second time? was the thought that filled every mind in the cathedral. Interest gleamed from every face. The sanctuary had assumed for the time being the aspect of a stage, and with bated breath the assembly awaited the result, as an audience awaits the _dénouement_ of a play. The only person who showed no trace of feeling was Ignatius himself. With solemn air he proceeded to the delivery of the Sacrament. Once more he approached the artist, who elevated his face to receive the host, and once more did Ignatius pass him by. At this second refusal Angelo bounded to his feet with a suddenness that startled every one except Ignatius, who, calm and dignified, drew back a few paces, covering with the linen corporal the paten containing the wafers as if to guard them from seizure and profanation. With eyes of fire and lip of scorn Angelo glared round on the assembly, as if in disdain of any opinion they might have formed of him, his face proud, dark, and defiant. The cathedral attendants, observing his wild bearing, were stepping forward to remove him, but a signal from Father Ignatius checked their advance.