"Peace!" he exclaimed with lifted hand, and at his word the rising murmur of many voices was hushed. "Peace! Let there be no tumult, I pray you, my children. My conduct may seem harsh, but the occasion warrants it. My son," he continued, turning to the artist, "you have forced this humiliation on yourself. Warned yestereven by me that you had forfeited the privileges of the Church, you have yet dared to disobey her voice, and to approach her hallowed altar. Leave this holy place, I pray you in quietude; or if force be employed in your removal, on your head be the guilt of profanation!" A wave of emotion swept over Angelo, but with an effort he subdued it, and faced the priest. "One question, and I retire. For what reason do you thus refuse me the Mass?" "The reverence due to the holy mysteries forbids you to participate in them. Now go. Would that my words might be: _Vade in pace!_" The voice of a judge giving sentence of death could not have been more impressive than those solemn tones issuing from the depths of the chancel. "Will you compel me to speak out?" he added, as the artist showed no sign of moving. "Let your own conscience vindicate me." "My conscience acquits me of any action that can justify you in excluding me from the Communion." "The saints pardon thee that falsehood, my son!" "Falsehood!" repeated the artist, stepping up to the chancel rails with clenched hands, and with so dark an expression on his face that I thought he was going to attack Ignatius. "If it were not for your age and holy office, you would not dare use such words to me. But the priest is protected by his alb and chasuble, as a woman by her sex. You have publicly affronted me. I demand an explanation, nor will I retire till you give it." "This is not the time or place. At the confessional will I hear thee--nay, absolve thee; but come not as thou art to the holy altar." "I tell you,"--Angelo began angrily, but Ignatius would not hear him. "Too long have we listened to thee!" he exclaimed with a gesture of impatience. "Attendants, remove this brawler, ere from the high altar we curse him with bell, book, and candle!" "Touch me at your peril!" cried Angelo fiercely. "Who dare accuse me of----" His eyes, glaring defiantly round at one and all, suddenly lighted upon us. There in that hour of his humiliation he beheld a sight calculated to call up all the bitterness of his nature; the woman whom he loved reclining in the arms of the man whom he hated! Daphne, with a frightened air, was clinging half fainting to me. He cast a look at her as if appealing for sympathy, but in the expression of her face, and in the quickly averted motion of her head, he read the loss of all his hopes. I was but human--it was ignoble of me, I know--but I could not repress the exultant thought that this was a splendid triumph for me!