So he reached his cell again, and recovered himself and his God in solitude.
The next morning he went out in order to see the Church of St. Peter and the Vatican, which had become the residence of the Popes after their return from Avignon. Since he did not know his way about the town, he happened to come into the Forum. There were several bodies of troops collected for review, and on a great black stallion sat an old man, armed from top to toe in steel. The troops passed in review before him, and he seemed to be the commander.
“He looks like a Rabbi,” said a citizen, “and he must be quite five and sixty now.”
“He seems to me to resemble the prophet Muhammed. And he began as a tradesman.”
“Yes, and he has bought the papal chair.”
“Well, let it go! But his summoning Charles VIII with the French to Naples was a betrayal of his country. Now he goes against Venice, and leads the troops himself.”
“And expects help from the Turks.”
“They ought not to play with the Turks, who are already in Hungary and mean to get to Vienna.”
“We have forgotten the Crusades, and tolerance is a fine quality.”