“Fulfil them certainly.”
“I go to the grave of my friend Adalbert in Gnesen, and I must visit the funeral vault of Charles the Great in Aachen.”
“Do so, but you must at the same time fulfil some commissions which I give you for the journey.”
So they parted.
Two years had passed, when, one day in January, Pope Silvester was summoned to Paterno, the little castle on Soracte, where the Roman-German Emperor dwelt, and now lay ill.
When Silvester entered the sick-room, the Emperor sat upright, but looked troubled. “You are ill,” said Silvester: “is it the soul or body?”
“I am tired.”
“Already, at twenty-two years of age.”
“I am despondent.”