(V)
"Eh well," said the Pope in delicate French; "I amarrived in time then."
He looked round from side to side, smiling and peering--thislittle commonplace-looking Frenchman, who had in his hand at thisperiod of the world's history an incalculably greater power thanany living being on earth had ever before wielded--Father ofPrinces and Kings, Arbiter of the East, Father as well asSovereign Lord of considerably more than a thousand millionsouls. He stood there, utterly alone with a single servantwaiting out there, half a mile away, at the flying-stage, in thepresence of the Council who in the name of the malcontents of thehuman race had declared war on the world of which he was now allbut absolute master. No European nation could pass a law which hehad not the right to veto; not one monarch claimed to hold hiscrown except at the hands of this man. And the East--even thepagan East--had learned at last that the Vicar of Christ was theFriend of Peace and Progress.
And he stood here, smiling and peering at the faces.
"I come as my own envoy," said the Pope presently, adjusting hiscollar. "'The King said, "They will reverence My Son,"' so I amcome as the Vicar of that Son. You have killed my two messengers,I hear. Why have you done that?"
There was no answer. From where the priest stood he could hearlaboured breathing on all sides, but not a man moved or spoke.
"Eh well then, I have come to offer you a last opportunity ofsubmitting peacefully. In less than an hour from now the armedtruce expires. After that we shall be compelled to use force. Wedo not wish to use force; but society must now protect itself. Ido not speak to you in the name of Christ; that name meansnothing to you. So I speak in the name of society, which youprofess to love. Submit, gentlemen, and let me be the bearer ofthe good news."
He spoke still in that absolutely quiet and conversational tonein which he had begun. One hand rested lightly on the railbefore him; the other gently fingered the great cross on hisbreast, naturally and easily, as the priest had seen him fingerit once before in his own palace. It was unthinkable that such aweight in the world's history rested on so slight a foundation.Yet for a few frozen moments no one else moved or spoke. It isprobable that the scene they witnessed seemed to themunsubstantial and untrue.
Then, as the priest still stood, fascinated and overwhelmed, henoticed a movement in the great chair before him. Very slowlythe President shifted his position, clasping his hands looselybefore him and bending forward a little. Then a dialogue began,of which every word remained in the priest's mind as if writtenthere. It was in French throughout, the smooth delicacy of thePope's intonation contrasting strangely with the heavy Germanaccent of the other.
"You come as an envoy, sir. Do you then accept our terms?"
"I accept no terms. I offer them."
"And those?"
"Absolute and unconditional submission to myself."
"You received our notice as to the treatment of such envoys?"
(There was a rustle in the hall, but the other paid no attention.)
"But certainly."
"You come armed then--protected in some manner?"
The Pope smiled. He made a little opening gesture with his hands.
"I come as you see me; no more."
"Your armies are behind you?"
"The European air-fleets start from every quarter at midnight."
"With your consent?"
"But certainly."
"You understand that this means immeasurable bloodshed?"
"But certainly."
"You defend that?"
"My Master came bringing not peace, but a sword. But I am nothere to teach theology."
"But until midnight----"
"Until midnight I am in your hands."
Again the silence fell, deeper than ever. Monsignor took his eyesoff the Pope's face for an instant to glance round what he couldsee of the circle. All were staring steadily, some half sunk downin their seats, others stretched forward, clasping the outeredges of the desks with strained hands, all staring at this quietwhite figure who faced them. He looked again at that face. Ifthere had been in it, not merely agitation or fear, but evenunusual paleness, if there had been in those hands, one of whichbore the great Papal ring, not merely trembling, but even a signof constriction or tenseness, it might well have been, thoughtthe priest afterwards, that the scene would have ended verydifferently. But the naturalness and ease of the pose wereabsolute. He stood there, the hands lightly laid one upon theother, his face palish certainly, but not colourless. There waseven a slight flush in his cheeks from his quick walk up the longhall. It was a situation in which the weight of a hair would turnthe scale. . . .
Then the President lifted his head slightly, and a tremor ranround the circle.
"I see no reason for delay," he said heavily. "Our terms wereclear. This man came with the full knowledge of them and theconsequences of disregarding them----"
The Pope lifted his hand.
"One instant, Mr. President----"
"I see no reason----"
"Gentlemen-----"
A murmur of consent rolled round the thirty persons sitting there,so unmistakable that the man who up to now had ruled them all witha hint or gesture dropped his head again. Then the Pope went on.
"Gentlemen, I have really no more to say than that which I havesaid. But I beg of you to reconsider. You propose to kill me asyou have killed my messengers. Well, I am at your disposal. I didnot expect to live so long when I set out from Rome this morning.But, then, what will you gain? At midnight every civilized nationis in arms. And I will tell you what perhaps you do notknow--that the East is supporting Europe. The Eastern fleets areactually on their way at this moment that I speak. You propose toreform Society. I will not argue as to those reforms; I say onlythat they are too late. I will not argue as to the truth of theChristian religion. I say only that the Christian religion isalready ruling this world. You kill me? My successor will reignto-morrow. . . . You kill the Emperor; his son, now in Rome, atthat moment begins to reign. Gentlemen, what do you gain? Merelythis--that in days to come your names will be foul in all men'smouths. . . . At this moment you have an opportunity to submit;in a few minutes it will be too late."
He paused a moment.
Then, to the priest's eyes, it seemed as if some subtle changepassed over his face and figure. Up to now he had spoken,conversationally and quietly, as a man might speak to a companyof friends. But, though he had not noticed it at the time, heremembered later how there had been gathering during his littlespeech a certain secret intensity and force like the kindling ofa fire. In this pause it swept on and up, flushing his face withsudden colour, lifting his hands as on a rising tide, breakingout suddenly in his eyes like fire, and in his voice in passion.The rest saw it too; and in that tense atmosphere it laid holdof them as with a giant's hand; it struck their tight-strungnerves; it broke down the last barriers on which their own fearshad been at work.
"My children," cried the White Father, no longer a Frenchman now,but a very Son of Man. "My children, do not break my heart! Solong and hard the labour--two thousand years long--two thousandyears since Christ died; and you to wreck and break the peace thatcomes at last; that peace into which through so great tribulationsthe people of God are entering at last. You say you know no God,and cannot love Him; but you know man---poor wilful man--and wouldyou fling him back once more into wrath and passion and lust forblood?--those lusts from which even now he might pass to peace ifit were not for you. You say that Christ is hard--that His Churchis cruel, and that man must have liberty? I too say that man musthave liberty--he was made for it; but what liberty would that bewhich he has not learned to use?
"My children! have pity on men, and on me who strive to be theirfather. Never yet has Christ reigned on earth till now--Christ whoHimself died, as I, His poor servant, am ready to die a thousandtimes, if men may but themselves learn to die to self and to liveto Him. Have pity, then, on the world you love and hope to serve.Serve it indeed as best you can. Let us serve it together!"
br /> * * * * *
There was an instant's silence.
He stood there, his hands clasped in agony upon his cross. Thenhe flung his hands wide in sudden, silent appeal.
There was a crash of an overturned desk; the crying out ofdesperate voices all together, and as from the great toweroverhead there beat out the first stroke of midnight, the priest,on his knees now, saw through eyes blind with tears, figuresmoving and falling and kneeling towards that central form thatstood there, a white pillar of Royalty and sorrow, calling forthe last time all the world unto him.
* * * * *
But the President sat still at his desk, motionless.
CHAPTER IV