The Dawn of All

  (III)

  A curious seething movement had broken out in the piazza,resembling the stir of a troubled ant-hill, on either side of thebroad green way down which the Pope would come; and already intothe head of the street up which the priests looked figures wereemerging. Simultaneously a crash of brazen music had filled theair. A movement of attention, exactly like the lift of a swellalong the foot of a cliff, passed down the crowded street to theleft and lost itself round the corner towards S. Angelo.

  Then they began to come, swinging over from the piazza to thestreet as if from a pool into a narrow channel. Troops camefirst--company after company--each with a band leading. Firstthe Austrian guard in white and gold on white chargers--passingfrom the flash and dazzle their uniforms threw back in thesunlight into the glow of the shadowed street. And then, by thetime that the Austrians were passing below the window, cametroop after troop down from the piazza in all the uniforms ofthe civilized world.

  At first Father Jervis murmured a name or two; he even laid hishand upon his friend's arm as the Life-guards of England cameclashing by with their imperturbable faces above their silversplendour; but presently the amazing spectacle forming in thepiazza, and, above all, on the steps of St. Peter's, silencedthem both. Monsignor Masterman gave scarcely a glance even to themonstrous figures of the Chinese imperial guard, who went bypresently in black armour and vizarded helmets, like old Orientalgods. For in the piazza itself the procession of princes wasforming; and the steps of the basilica already began to burn withpurple and scarlet where the Cardinals and the Papal Court weremaking ready for the coming of the Lord of them all.

  And then, at last, he came. . . .

  Monsignor Masterman had begun to stare, almost with unintelligenteyes, at the thronged street, beneath, watching the greatcarriages come past, each surmounted by a crown with its propersupporters, each surrounded by a small guard drawn from thetroops that had ridden by just now. He identified a few here andthere; and his heart gave a strange leap as the Imperial Crown ofEngland came in sight, held up by the Lion and the Unicorn, andbeneath it, within the gilded coach, the face of a boy capped androbed in scarlet. And then he looked up again, startled by asilence broken only by the footsteps of the horses and the wheelsover the matted roadway, and the murmur of talking.

  The piazza was now one sea of white and purple, with emblems, goldand silver and jewelled, shining here and there; the green stripwas gone; for the Papal procession was begun; and then, on theinstant, as he looked, there was a new group standing beneath thegiant columns of the portico, and the cry of the silver trumpetstold to the thousands that waited that the Vicar of Christ hadcome out into this city that was again the City of God.

  Very slowly he came down the steps, a tiny white and gemmedfigure, yet perfectly visible on the high throne on which he wasborne, his hand swaying as he came, and the huge fans movingbehind him like protecting deities. Down and down he came, whilethe trumpets cried, and the waves of colour followed him, andthen vanished for a time among the crowd beneath, as he reachedthe level ground.

  Monsignor Masterman leaned back and closed his eyes. . . .

  He was disturbed by another touch on his arm; and, looking up,perceived that his friend was attracting his attention almostmechanically, and without looking at him.

  "Look," murmured Father Jervis--"it's the white jennet."

  Beneath, the street was now as wholly ecclesiastical as it hadbeen military just before, except that the Papal zouaves marchedin single file on either side of the procession. But within therewas just one packed army, going eight abreast, of seminarians andclerics. These were just passing as the priest looked again, andclose on their heels came the Court and the Cardinals; the latteran indescribable glory of scarlet, riding four abreast in broadhats and ample cloaks. But he gave scarcely more than a glance atthese; for, full in sight for at least half a minute, advancingstraight towards him down the roaring street, moved a canopy heldby figures he could not clearly make out, and beneath it,detached and perfectly visible, on a white horse, a white figure,its shoulders just draped in scarlet and its head shadowed by agreat scarlet hat, came slowly towards him.