“Yes, Eminence.”

* * * * *

The development of the Order of Christ Crucified had gone forward with almost miraculous success.  The appeal issued by the Holy Father throughout Christendom had been as fire among stubble.  It seemed as if the Christian world had reached exactly that point of tension at which a new organisation of this nature was needed, and the response had startled even the most sanguine.  Practically the whole of Rome with its suburbs—­three millions in all—­had run to the enrolling stations in St. Peter’s as starving men run to food, and desperate to the storming of a breach.  For day after day the Pope himself had sat enthroned below the altar of the Chair, a glorious, radiant figure, growing ever white and weary towards evening, imparting his Blessing with a silent sign to each individual of the vast crowd that swarmed up between the barriers, fresh from fast and Communion, to kneel before his new Superior and kiss the Pontifical ring.  The requirements had been as stringent as circumstances allowed.  Each postulant was obliged to go to confession to a specially authorised priest, who examined sharply into motives and sincerity, and only one-third of the applicants had been accepted.  This, the authorities pointed out to the scornful, was not an excessive proportion; for it was to be remembered that most of those who had presented themselves had already undergone a sifting fierce as fire.  Of the three millions in Rome, two millions at least were exiles for their faith, preferring to live obscure and despised in the shadow of God rather than in the desolate glare of their own infidel countries.

On the fifth evening of the enrolment of novices an astonishing incident had taken place.  The old King of Spain (Queen Victoria’s second son), already on the edge of the grave, had just risen and tottered before his Ruler; it seemed for an instant as if he would fall, when the Pope himself, by a sudden movement, had risen, caught him in his arms and kissed him; and then, still standing, had spread his arms abroad and delivered a fervorino such as never had been heard before in the history of the basilica.

“Benedictus Dominus!” he cried, with upraised face and shining eyes.  “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He hath visited and redeemed His people.  I, John, Vicar of Christ, Servant of Servants, and sinner among sinners, bid you be of good courage in the Name of God.  By Him Who hung on the Cross, I promise eternal life to all who persevere in His Order.  He Himself has said it. To him that overcometh I will give a crown of life.

“Little children; fear not him that killeth the body.  There is no more that he can do.  God and His Mother are amongst us....”

So his voice had poured on, telling the enormous awe-stricken crowd of the blood that already had been shed on the place where they stood, of the body of the Apostle that lay scarcely fifty yards away, urging, encouraging, inspiring.  They had vowed themselves to death, if that were God’s Will; and if not, the intention would be taken for the deed.  They were under obedience now; their wills were no longer theirs but God’s; under chastity—­for their bodies were bought with a price; under poverty, and theirs was the kingdom of heaven.