One cannot be everything; a choice intelligence, an iron will[9] are a sufficient portion even for a _priest-god_; he lacked love.

The death of this pontiff, great among the great ones, was destined to be saluted with songs of joy.[10] His reception of Francis furnished to Giotto, the friend of Dante, one of his most striking frescos; the pope, seated on his throne, turns abruptly toward Francis.

He frowns, for he does not understand, and yet he feels a strange power in this mean and despised man, _vilis et despectus_; he makes a real but futile effort to comprehend, and now I see in this pope, who lived upon lemons,[11] something that recalls another choice mind, theocratic like his own, sacrificed like him to his work: Calvin.

One might think that the painter had touched his lips to the Calabrian Seer's cup, and that in the attitude of these two men he sought to symbolize a meeting of representatives of the two ages of humanity, that of Law and that of Love.[12] A surprise awaited the pilgrims on their arrival in Rome: they met the Bishop of Assisi,[13] quite as much to his astonishment as to their own.

This detail is precious because it proves that Francis had not confided his plans to Guido.