Then the two united in maintaining that the princess looked utterly worn out and in need of rest.

But Manasseh, who, by appointment, just then came upon the scene to offer his escort for the day, laughed them all three to shame.
"That is always the way," said he; "people tire themselves out so before Saturday that on that day five-sixths of the crowd stay at home to save up their strength for Easter, and thus miss one of the most impressive spectacles of the week,--the adoration of the true cross." Poor Gabriel was now given no rest: he was forced to accompany the others once more to the Sistine Chapel, though he declared himself already quite stiff and sore with so much standing.
The chapel was at its best; the black hangings had been removed, the light from the windows was softened, candles burned on the altar, and, as Manasseh had predicted, so many of the sightseers had stayed at home that ample room was left for those who were present.

The general multitude could find little pleasure in the ceremony of the day,--the worship of a piece of wood about three yards in length, and unadorned with gold or silver.

The Pope and the cardinals, gowned with no pretence to magnificence or pomp, knelt before the relic as it lay on the altar.
It was but a fragment of the original cross, broken in the strife that attended its rescue.

This piece is said to have been saved and carried off by an emperor, making his way barefoot from Jerusalem to Alexandria, where another emperor concealed the precious relic in a statue, and finally the Templars bore it in triumph through pagan hordes from Constantinople to Rome.