During this conversation, the bishops had approached the Church; they wore brilliant mitres on their heads, and their steeds were covered with gorgeous housings.
Next after the bishops came the Antipope Pascal in full Pontifical robes, surrounded by the prelates of his court. But the costume of this Head of the Church became him as little as it had done his predecessor, Octavian, and his embarrassed manner and undignified carriage formed a painful contrast with the exalted and difficult functions of the ministry which he was called upon to discharge.
"Fancy Alexander by the side of Pascal," said Ambrose. "What a difference! In Alexander everything showed the real pope: his looks, his words, his bearing, even the glance of his eye. But with Pascal there is nothing! Bah! the Emperor has made a singular choice to fill St. Peter's chair."
"Silence!" cried Anselm, "here comes the divinity of the festival, the Divus Augustus himself."
At this moment the mob shouted,--
"Long live the Emperor! Hail, Great Augustus!"
Frederic appeared mounted on a magnificent charger; by his side rode the Empress Beatrice, and in front was borne the Imperial banner.
As he approached the castle, the crowd made a movement, the applause ceased, and all eyes were turned to the tower of Saint Angelo.
In place of the image of the mighty Archangel, an immense flag hung from its summit. This unexpected memento of their humiliation created a most painful impression upon the Romans, who looked in vain for the venerated emblem of their patron saint. Alexander's curse, with all its fearful consequences, recurred to their minds, and hushed the cries of rejoicing, even among the paid emissaries of the Chancellor, and it was amid a death-like silence that Frederic moved towards the church of St. Peter.
"What does this mean?" said Gervase, who, from the balcony, could not perceive the flag; "everybody is staring at the castle, and the cries of 'Hail to the Emperor! Glory to the great Augustus!' have ceased."