And at the
very end rode Robert, the jester. His
horse was a poor old thing, many-colored,
and the ape rode with him. Every one
in the villages through which they passed
ran after the jester, and pointed and
laughed.
The Pope received his brothers and
their trains in the square before Saint
Peter's. With music and flags and
flowers he made the King of Sicily welcome,
and greeted him as his brother. In the
midst of it, the jester broke through the
crowd and threw himself before the Pope.
"Look at me!" he cried; "I am your
brother, Robert of Sicily! This man is
an impostor, who has stolen my throne.
I am Robert, the king!"
The Pope looked at the poor jester
with pity, but the Emperor of Allemaine
turned to the King of Sicily, and said, "Is
it not rather dangerous, brother, to keep
a madman as jester?" And again Robert
was pushed back among the serving-men.
It was Holy Week, and the king and
the emperor, with all their trains, went
every day to the great services in the
cathedral. Something wonderful and holy
seemed to make all these services more
beautiful than ever before. All the people
of Rome felt it: it was as if the presence
of an angel were there. Men thought of
God, and felt his blessing on them. But
no one knew who it was that brought the
beautiful feeling. And when Easter Day
came, never had there been so lovely, so
holy a day: in the great churches, filled
with flowers, and sweet with incense, the
kneeling people listened to the choirs
singing, and it was like the voices of angels;
their prayers were more earnest than ever
before, their praise more glad; there was
something heavenly in Rome.
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