of which we have robbed them.  He wishes to give back to mankind his inherited portion of the booty!  But what will then become of us?  Will not our slaves rise up against us, demanding their human rights?  We cannot suffer such innovations, for they involve our destruction!’ Thus have they cried, and in their anxiety they have decided upon my death!  Then they threw me in a crumb exactly suited to my dreams of improving the happiness of the people; they all consented that I should relieve mankind from that dangerous tapeworm, Jesuitism, and with secret laughter thought, ‘It will be the death of him!’ And they were right, these sly princes, it will be the death of me!  I have abolished the order of Jesuits—­in consequence of which I shall die—­but the Jesuits will live, and live forever!”

The echo of approaching footsteps was now heard, and, sinking with fatigue, he directed Lorenzo to go and meet the intruder, and by no means to let any one penetrate to him.

Returning alone, Lorenzo handed the pope a letter.

“The courier whom you sent out some days since has returned,” said he.  “This is his dispatch.”

Taking the letter, with a sad smile, the pope weighed it in his hand.  “How light is this little sheet,” said he, “and yet how heavy are its contents!  Do you know what this letter contains, Lorenzo?”

“How can I?  A poor cloister brother is not all-knowing!”

“This letter,” said the pope, with solemnity, “Brings me life or death.  It is the answer of the learned physician, Professor Brunelli, of Bologna!”

“You have written to him?” asked Lorenzo, turning pale.

“I wrote him, particularly describing my condition and sufferings; in God’s name I conjured him to tell me the truth, and Brunelli is a man of honor; he will do it!  Am I right, therefore, in saying that the contents of this letter are very heavy?”

Lorenzo trembled, and, grasping the pope’s hand, he hastily and anxiously said:  “No, read it not.  Of what use will it be to learn its contents?  It is tempting God to endeavor to learn the future in advance!  Let me destroy this fatal letter!”

And, while his faithful servant respectfully stood back, Ganganelli broke the seal.

A pause ensued—­a long, excruciating pause!  Lorenzo, kneeling, prayed—­Pope Ganganelli read the letter of the physician of Bologna.  His face had assumed a mortal pallor; while reading, his lips trembled, and tear-drops rolled slowly down over his sunken cheeks.

Falling from his hand, the letter rustled to the earth; with hanging head and folded hands sat the pope.  Lorenzo was still upon his knees praying.  Ganganelli suddenly raised his head, his eyes were turned heavenward, a cheerful, God-given peace beamed from his eyes, and with a clear, exulting voice, he said:  “Lord, Thy will be done!  I resign myself to Thy holy keeping.”

“The letter, then, brings good news?” asked Lorenzo, misled by the joyfulness of the pope.  “There is, then, no ground for the presentiments of death, and the learned doctor says you will live?”