The Pope's Recreation Hour

The pope followed his retreating form with a glance of sadness and a
shake of the head.

"He is past help," murmured he; "he runs to his ruin, and the voice of
warning is unheeded. But how, if he should happen to be right? How, if
he with his worldly wisdom and his theory of earthly happiness, should
be more conformable to the will of God than we with our virtue and our
doctrine of renunciation? Ah, yes, the world is so beautiful, it seems
made entirely for pleasure and enjoyment, and yet men wander through it
with tearful eyes, disregarding its beauty, and refusing to share
its pleasures. All, except man, is free on earth. He alone lies in
constraining bands, and his heart bleeds while all creation rejoices.
No, no, that cannot be; every individual does what he can to render
mankind free and happy, and I also will do my part. God has laid great
power in my hand, and I will use it so long as it is mine."

Thus speaking, the pope left the garden, and hastened up to his study.

"Signor Galiandro," said he, to his private secretary, "did you not
speak to me to-day of several petitions received, in which people begged
for dispensations from monk and cloister vows?"

Signor Galiandro smilingly rummaged among a mass of papers that covered
the pope's writing-table.

"In the last four weeks some fifty such petitions have been received.
Since your holiness has released several monks and nuns from their vows,
all these pious brides of Christ and these consecrated priests seem
to have tired of their cloister life, and long to be out in the world
again."