After the ceremony of reception was finished, Their Majesties, Augustitudes, Highnesses, and Honours, lingered, chatting with the pontifical court. Some of them had a few words with the Supreme Pontiff. The Northern Emperor came and said, “I know that Your Holiness will felicitate me on a dispatch which I have just received from my brother Prince Henry, who announces that my glorious German navy has taken Kronstadt.”
Hadrian replied; and added “Be merciful, Augustitude.”
William then did a politely ferocious scowl, intended to indicate imperial impatience; and continued in a lower tone, “I am also anxious to assure Your Holiness that I myself deeply regret the absence of my cousin and imperial brother, Victor Emanuel. All that I could say has been said to persuade His Augustitude to join me on this auspicious and never-to-be-forgotten occasion. I wish that to be known.”
“It only is a personal obstacle, not a political, which prevents the Southern Emperor from coming here?”
“Most Holy Lord, it is not even a personal obstacle. Victor Emanuel has the most profound and much-to-be-admired and preeminently-well-merited veneration and reverence for Your Person. It is—well, really it seems almost childish—but he has persuaded himself that—”
“That the Roman Pontiff owes the King of Italy a visit?”
“Precisely, Holy Father. There is some history of an approach which His Augustitude’s royal and martyred father made to the Conclave of 1878—”
“And for a mere idea, Victor Emanuel, will continue alienate from Us! Yet, ideas are very fine things, to be respected, to be cultivated, in this material age. They are so rare, so singular. And constancy, fidelity to an idea, above all things is singular and rare, in this age of compromise from which the world only now emerges. Victor Emanuel is not to be blamed, but praised.” Suddenly a bright light came in the Apostle’s eyes. “Well, then, the next step is obvious. If the son will not come to the Father, then the Father must go to the son.” And an impulse to instant movement appeared to urge Him onward.
The Northern Emperor splendidly rose to the occasion. “It would be one more grand deed added to Your Holiness’s many grand deeds. I trust that I may have the never-sufficiently-to-be-valued honour of accompanying You.”
“But We walk:” said Hadrian.
“I also will gladly walk:” said William.
The Pope darted a rapid glance round the hall. The King of Portugal was talking to the Japanese Emperor; and the Basil of the Hellenes was listening to the Prince of Montenegro-and-New-Serbia. The Ninefold King, with one arm paternally resting on the shoulder of the young King of Spain, was telling (as his own) an extremely funny story, (which he had heard five minutes before from Cardinal Semphill), to the President of America. Cardinals and sovereigns clustered round them, ploding with laughter at each admirably detailed jocosity. “We can escape this way;” the Pope said to the Emperor. Outside the hall, a pontifical page ran for the white three-cornered hat; and the two descended the Scala Regia, with its Ionic columns flanked by pontifical guards, and made their way into the Square of St. Peter’s. There was a cleared roadway; and they quickly walked between long lines of magnificent Italian soldiery. Rome occupied the sidewalks; and sank to its knees as the Supreme Pontiff, shedding benedictions, went swinging lightly and swiftly by. The German Gentleman made no attempt to take salutes until Hadrian said, “Oh do notice these dear Romans. They will be pleased. And you know that you profoundly admire the bersaglieri.”
The Emperor responded, “I am as proud to salute the Romans as I am to salute the noblest Roman of them all—to use the words of Your Holiness’s divine Shakespeare.” And he strode on, saluting, while the Pontiff blessed.
As they passed the Palazzo Venezia, Hadrian said, “Victor Emanuel really behaves extremely well. Three-quarters of his army are in the field; and here is a parcel of foreign sovereigns practically occupying his capital in—no, not homage—in courtesy to Us.—”
“And also out of respect, Holiness.”
“Out of respect then and courtesy to Our Apostolature. It is no affair of his; and yet he lines the streets with troops, while he himself—oh, it’s really very decent of him!”
“Victor Emanuel is a truly great man;” the Emperor commented. The Pope assented.
They entered the Palace of the Quirinale; and went straight through the ambassador’s hall to the Southern Emperor’s study. William remained in the antechamber. Victor Emanuel in a light-grey flannel suit was reading proofs of his numismatic catalogue. He stood up pale and stiff, when his groom-of-the-chambers came in and whispered a word. Hadrian followed on the instant, entering with candid gentle dignity, extending an English hand. Not a word was said. Victor Emanuel, shining with the light of the purple which he had not yet worn, took the outstretched hand: held it: felt his own gripped and held. He bent his head—then his knee. Reconciliation was complete.
“May I have the honour and the happiness of presenting my wife to Your Holiness?” he said, a minute later. He went along the corridor and gave two raps on a further door. “Darling,” he cried; “please come.”
The exquisite Empress Elena appeared. She started slightly at first: but bravely came on, imperially mysteriously pale and radiant as “the chorus of nightly stars and the bright powers which bring summer and winter to mortals, conspicuous in the firmament.”
Hadrian at once won her with “And the lovely children.”
“Oh yes, the kiddies!” Victor Emanuel said.
“Do you know that We owe one immense emotion to your boy?” and Hadrian narrated the incident in Prince Attendolo’s garden.
Mother and father proudly laughed. “Yes, we heard about that, of course; and I wondered what would happen if ever we ourselves should meet Your Holiness by accident, as the children did:” the Empress said.
“Well, we have
