But at one end a great lamp, with a reflector, shed its light upon the commemorative inscription on the right of the door leading to the Loggia of Giovanni da Udine.
Between the long lines of inscriptions, which ran from one end of the gallery to the other, and watched this dark conflict of two living souls, like dumb witnesses well acquainted with the mysteries of that which is beyond the grave and of the last judgment, the Pope advanced slowly, silently, Benedetto following on his left, but a few paces behind him.

He paused a moment near the torso representing the river Orontes, and gazed out of the window.

Benedetto wondered if he were looking at the lights of the Quirinal, and his heart beat faster as he waited for a word.

The word did not come.

The Pope continued his slow, silent walk, his hands clasped behind his back and his chin resting on his breast.