“Deposuit potentes de sede, et exaltavit humiles.”
King Robert had heard the chant many times before, but now he found himself wondering what this particular phrase meant. A learned man was at his side, and the king spoke to him.
“What do those words mean?” he asked.
“He has put down the mighty from their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree,”
replied the scholar.
“It is well that such words are sung in Latin and only by the priests,” muttered King Robert, scornfully. “Be it known to both priests and people that there is no power that can push me from my throne.”
He leaned back in his seat yawning and soon fell asleep, lulled by the monotonous chant.
Now, it was St. John’s eve and on that day strange and unlooked for things happen. When King Robert awoke from his nap it was night and he was alone in the church. The service was over and the priests and every one else except himself had gone. The great building was dark but for the little lamps which were kept burning constantly before the images of the saints.
King Robert started from his seat and looked around in amazement. All was still. He groped his way down the long aisle to the door; he took hold of the handle and tried to turn it; the door was locked. He called and listened for an answer but none came. He knocked and he shouted, but to no purpose. Growing angrier every minute, he cried out threats and complaints and the sound of his own voice came back to him echoing from the roofs and the walls. It was as though he were being mocked by unseen hearers.