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           ’AnEnglishsaying,HerrGeneral."

           ThatnightArchbishopRalphwastired,restless,onedge.Heseemedtobedoingnothingtohelpendthiswar,onlydickeraboutthepreservationofantiquities,andhehadgrowntoloatheVaticaninertiapassionately.Thoughhewasconservativebynature,sometimesthesnaillikecautionofthoseoccupyingthehighestChurchpositionsirkedhimintolerably.Asidefromthehumblenunsandpriestswhoactedasservants,itwasweekssincehehadspokentoanordinaryman,someonewithoutapolitical,spiritualormilitaryaxetogrind.Evenprayerseemedtocomelesseasilytohimthesedays,andGodseemedlight-yearsaway,asifHehadwithdrawntoallowHishumancreaturesfullreinindestroyingtheworldHehadmadeforthem.Whatheneeded,hethought,wasastiffdoseofMeggieandFee,orastiffdoseofsomeonewhowasn’tinterestedinthefateoftheVaticanorofRome.

           HisGracewalkeddowntheprivatestairsintothegreatbasilicaofSaintPeter’s,whencehisaimlessprogresshadledhim.Itsdoorswerelockedthesedaysthemomentdarknessfell,asignoftheuneasypeacewhichlayoverRomemoretellingthanthecompaniesofgrey-cladGermansmovingthroughRomanstreets.Afaint,ghostlyglowilluminatedtheyawningemptyapse;hisfootstepsechoedhollowlyonthestonefloorashewalked,stoppedandmergedwiththesilenceashegenuflectedinfrontoftheHighAltar,beganagain.Then,betweenonefoot’snoiseofimpactandthenext,heheardagasp.