CHAPTER VI.
THE CONSECRATED PALM-LEAF.
Early the next morning the cannon began to boom from the Castle of St.
Angelo.

Gabriel Zimandy sprang out of bed and dressed himself quickly.
His first care was to tap at Madam Dormandy's door and inquire for her health.

The patient answered in a pitiful voice that the guns were fairly splitting her poor head, and that she did not expect to live the day through.

This reply seemed to be quite to the advocate's liking: of the lady's succumbing to her ailment he had not the slightest fear, while he now felt assured that it would be impossible for his client to go out that day.

What conception had he, heartless man, of the longing that filled the young woman's soul for the papal blessing, to which she ascribed such miraculous power, but which to him was nothing more than a Latin phrase?
Soon the bells began to ring from all the church-towers of the city, and a stream of people in gala attire poured toward St.Peter's.