Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

On the following day there was a solemn high office in St. Peter's. All
Rome flocked there, to see this great and touching spectacle. A dense
crowd thronged the streets, and all shouted and cried when the pope,
surrounded by his Swiss guard, appeared in their midst in his gilded
armchair, and received the greetings of the people with a bland smile.

Toward St. Peter's waved the human throng, and to St. Peter's the pope
was borne. The features of Ganganelli had an expression of sadness, and
as he now glanced down upon the thousands of his subjects who,
shouting, followed him, he asked in his heart, "Who among you will be
my murderers? And how long will you yet allow me to live? Ah, were I
yet the poor Franciscan monk I was, then no one would take the pains to
assassinate me. Why, then, does the world, precisely now, seem so fair
to me, now, when I know that I must leave it so soon?" And the pope
shed a secret tear while, surrounded by royal splendor, he imparted his
blessing to the thousands who reverently knelt at his feet.

The bells rang, the organ resounded, the wide halls of St. Peter's were
penetrated by the marvellous singing of the Sistine chapel. Thousands
and thousands of wax tapers lighted the noble space of the church,
thousands and thousands of people pressed into the sacred halls. Under
his canopy, opposite the high altar, sat the vicegerent of God upon
his golden throne, surrounded by the consecrated cardinals and bishops,
protected by the Swiss guard! Who could have ventured to attack the holy
father--who would have been so foolhardy as to attempt to penetrate that
thick wall of Swiss guards and princes of the Church--who could have
been successful in such an attempt? No human being! But where the people
could not penetrate, where there was no room for the swinging of a
dagger, there the malignant poison lurked unseen!