"Simon of Mayence, stand forth," he said, "and give voice to thy plea. We give thee attention."
The old man approached a few paces nearer, and in simple, but eloquent language, pleaded that the Jews should be permitted to remain unmolested in Mayence in which city their community had been long established.
"Thy prayer" said the Pope, when he had finished, "shall have full consideration, and my answer shall be made known to thee without delay. Now tell me, Simon of Mayence, something of thyself and thy co-delegates. Who are ye in the city?"
Simon gave the information.
"Have ye come hither alone?" asked the Pope. "Or have ye been escorted by members of your families—your sons?"
The Pope's voice was scarcely steady, but none noticed.
"I have no son," said Simon, with a weary sigh.
"Hast thou never been blessed with offspring?"
Simon looked sharply at the Pope before answering. Then, with bowed head and broken voice, he said: "God blessed me with one son, but he was stolen from me in childhood. That has been the sorrow of my life."
The old man's voice was choked with sobs.