“Who else can he be but the Antichristianity, socialism?”
The monk looked up in terror.
“Father Gondo,” said the pope, sternly, “when you held the image in your arms you wished to burn him. Why? Why were you not loving to him? Why did you not carry him back to the little Christchild on the Capitolium from whom he proceeded?
“That is what you wandering monks could do. You could take the great popular movement in your arms, while it is still lying like a child in its swaddling clothes, and you could bear it to Jesus’ feet; and Antichrist would see that he is nothing but an imitation of Christ, and would acknowledge him his Lord and Master. But you do not do so. You cast Antichristianity on the pyre, and soon he in his turn will cast you there.”
Father Gondo bent his knee. “I understand, Holy Father. I will go and look for the image.”
The pope rose majestically. “You shall not look for the image; you shall let him go his way through the ages. We do not fear him. When he comes to storm the Capitol in order to mount the throne of the world, we shall meet him, and we shall lead him to Christ. We shall make peace between earth and heaven. But you do wrong,” he continued more mildly, “to hate him. You must have forgotten that the sibyl considered him one of the redeemers of the world. ‘On the heights of the Capitol the redeemer of the world shall be worshipped, Christ or Antichrist.’”
“Holy Father, if the miseries of this world are to be remedied by him, and heaven suffers no injury, I shall not hate him.”
The old pope smiled his most subtle smile.
“Father Gondo, you will permit me also to tell you a Sicilian story. The story goes, Father Gondo, that when Our Lord was busy creating the world, He wished one day to know if He had much more work to do. And He sent San Pietro out to see if the world was finished.