Brother Lorenzo handed to the pope the willow basket filled with corn and green leaves, and both, with hasty steps and laughing faces, betook themselves to the poultry-yard; the ducks and geese fluttered to them with a noisy gabbling as soon as they caught sight of the provender-basket, and Ganganelli laughingly said:  “It seems as if I were here in the conclave, and listening to the contention of the cardinals as they quarrel about the choice of a new pope.  Lorenzo, I should well like to know who will succeed me in the sacred chair and hold the keys of St. Peter!  That will be a stormy conclave!—­Be quiet, my dear ducks and geese!  Indeed, you are in the right, I forgot my duty!  Well, well, I will give you your food now—­here it is!”

And the pope with full hands strewed the corn among the impatiently gabbling geese, and heartily laughed at the eagerness with which they threw themselves upon it.

“And is it not with men as with these dear animals?” said he, laughing; “When one satisfies them with food, they become silent, mild, and gentle.  Princes should always remember that, and before all things satiate their subjects with food, if they would have a tranquil and unopposed government!  Ah, that reminds me of our own poor, Lorenzo!  Many petitions have been received, much misery has been described, and many heart-rending complaints have been made to me!”

“That is because they know you are always giving and would rather suffer want yourself than refuse gifts to others,” growled Lorenzo.  “Hardly half the month is past, and we are already near the end of our means!”

“Already?” exclaimed the pope, with alarm.  “And I believe I yet need much money.  There is a father of fourteen children who has fallen from a scaffolding and broken both legs.  We must care for him, Lorenzo; the children must not want for bread!”

“That is understood, that is Christian duty,” said Lorenzo, eagerly.  “Give me the address, I will go to him yet to-day!  And how much money shall I take with me?”

“Well, I thought,” timidly responded Ganganelli, “that five scudi would not be too much!”

Lorenzo compassionately shrugged his shoulders.  “You can never learn the value of money,” said he; “I am now to take five scudi to these fourteen children.”

“Is it not enough?” joyfully asked Ganganelli.  “Well, I thank God that you are so disposed!  I only feared you would refuse me so much, because my treasury, as you say, is already empty.  But if we have something left, give much, much more!  At least a hundred scudi, Lorenzo!”

“That is always the way with you; from extreme to extreme!” grumbled Lorenzo.  “First too little, then too much!  I shall take to them twenty scudi, and that will be sufficient!”

“Give them thirty,” begged Ganganelli, “do you hear, thirty, brother Lorenzo.  Thirty scudi is yet a very small sum!”

“Ah, what do you know about money?” answered Lorenzo, laughing; “these geese here understand the matter better than you, brother Clement.”