He paused again near the end of the gallery, in the light of the great lamp, and seemed undecided whether to turn back or to proceed.
On the left of the lamp the door of the gallery opened upon a background of night, of moonlight, columns, glass, and marble pavement.

The Pope turned in this direction, and descended the five steps.

The moonlight fell slanting upon the pavement, streaked with the black shadows of the columns, and upon the end of the Loggia, cut off by the oblique profile of the deeper shadow, within which the bust of Giovanni was barely distinguishable.
The Pope walked on till he reached this shadow and paused in it, while Benedetto, who had stopped several paces behind that he might not seem to press him irreverently in his anxiety for an answer, was gazing at the moon, sailing midst the great clouds above Rome.

As he gazed thus at the orb he asked himself, asked some Invisible One who might be near him, asked even the grave, sad face of the moon herself, whether he had dared too much, dared in the wrong way.

But he repented of this doubt immediately.