His imperious character and the joy of his triumph made his glance flash.  What a splendid victory!  The Church was his home, and he returned to it after a long absence with all the majesty of an absolute master, who could crush the evil-speaking slaves who dared to attack him.

The greatness of the Church seemed to him at that moment more glorious than ever.  What an admirable institution!  The strong man who arrived at the top was an omnipotent god to be feared.  Nothing of pernicious and revolutionary equality.  Dogma exalted the humility of all before God; but when you came to examples, flocks were always spoken of, and shepherds to direct them.  He was that shepherd because the Omnipotent has so ordered it.  Woe to whoever attempted to dethrone him!

In the choir his delighted pride tasted an even greater satisfaction.  He was seated on the throne of the archbishops of Toledo, that seat which had been the star of his youth, the remembrance of which had disturbed him in his Episcopacy, when the mitre had travelled through the provinces, waiting for the hour to rise to the Primacy.  He stood erect under the artistic canopy of the Mount Tabor, at the top of four steps, so that all in the choir could see him and recognise that he was their prince.  The heads of the dignitaries seated at his side were thus on a level with his feet.  He could trample on them like vipers should they dare to rise again, striking at his most intimate affections.

Fired by the appreciation of his own grandeur and triumph, he was the first to rise, or to sit down; as is directed in the rubric of the services, he joined his voice to those in the choir, astonishing them all by the harsh energy of his singing; the Latin words rolled from his mouth like blows upon those hated people, and his eyes passed with a threatening expression over the double row of bent heads.

He was a fortunate man, who had risen from place to place, but he never felt a satisfaction so deep, so complete as at that moment.  He himself was startled at his own delight, at that orgy of pride that had extinguished his chronic ailments; it seemed to him as though he were spending in a few hours the stores of enjoyment of his whole life.

As the mass was ending, the singers and lower people in the choir, who were the only ones who dared to look at him, were alarmed, seeing him suddenly grow pale, rise with his face discomposed, pressing his hands to his breast.  The canons noticing it, rushed towards him, forming a crowded mass of red vestments in front of his throne.  His Eminence was suffocating, fighting against that circle of hands who instinctively clutched at him.

“Air!” he moaned, “air!  Get out from before me with a thousand curses!  Take me home!”

Even in the midst of his agony, he recovered his majestic gesture and his old soldiering oaths to drive away his enemies.  He was suffocating, but he would not allow the canons to see it:  he guessed the delight many of them must feel beneath their compassionate manner.  Let no one touch him!  He could manage for himself!  So leaning on two faithful servants, he began his march, gasping, towards the episcopal staircase, followed by great part of the Chapter.