The hand of the Almighty was raised against the master of the world: the cup was full, and at the very moment when Barbarossa was dreaming of new conquests, the avenging angel hovered around his head.
The ceremony was nearly at an end.
Frederic turned towards the Pope, as if to say:
"Well then, speak, repeat the lesson which I have taught you."
It appeared as though the sermon which had been prepared and revised by the Emperor, was not to Pascal's liking; still he dared not disobey his master's sign--he descended from the altar. Again the music ceased, and a profound silence prevailed through the church, where all listened anxiously for what the Imperial Pope was to say.
But Pascal was not to speak.
Scarcely was he in front of the altar, when an extraordinary movement commenced in the crowd; here and there persons fell lifeless. It seemed as though death was smiting its chosen victims. At first it was thought to be merely the result of fainting-fits, so often met with in crowded assemblages; but as the mortality continued to spread, and the corpses immediately became covered with black spots, a great fear seized the minds of all.
"He is dead! really dead!" said Gervase, who was supporting the body of his friend Ambrose. "May God have mercy on his soul!"
And he made the sign of the cross on his forehead.
"But see how black he becomes!" said Anselm. "By all the saints! it is the plague!"