The echo of approaching footsteps was now heard, and, sinking with fatigue, he directed Lorenzo to go and meet the intruder, and by no means to let any one penetrate to him.
Returning alone, Lorenzo handed the pope a letter.
“The courier whom you sent out some days since has returned,” said he. “This is his dispatch.”
Taking the letter, with a sad smile, the pope weighed it in his hand. “How light is this little sheet,” said he, “and yet how heavy are its contents! Do you know what this letter contains, Lorenzo?”
“How can I? A poor cloister brother is not all-knowing!”
“This letter,” said the pope, with solemnity, “Brings me life or death. It is the answer of the learned physician, Professor Brunelli, of Bologna!”
“You have written to him?” asked Lorenzo, turning pale.
“I wrote him, particularly describing my condition and sufferings; in God’s name I conjured him to tell me the truth, and Brunelli is a man of honor; he will do it! Am I right, therefore, in saying that the contents of this letter are very heavy?”
Lorenzo trembled, and, grasping the pope’s hand, he hastily and anxiously said: “No, read it not. Of what use will it be to learn its contents? It is tempting God to endeavor to learn the future in advance! Let me destroy this fatal letter!”
And, while his faithful servant respectfully stood back, Ganganelli broke the seal.