The young monk painted his picture con amore and with all the Italian wealth of color. It seemed to me as if the spirit of those cruel spectacles which had formerly taken place, on this very spot, had entered into the young priest, and inspired him with its demoniacal appetite. The clear, soft, summer sky which arched itself above the heathen rotunda, the evening breeze which wafted the grass and the flowers; and the white doves, which circled above with their glancing wings, lit up by the setting sun—were the messengers of a different spirit to those of the cruel, low-minded sermon. It closed with these words:
“Pray to Christ, that your lot may be with the elect, and not with them who will suffer la confusione, worse to bear them the flames of Hell!” He lifted up the crucifix; all fell on their knees and repeated a prayer after his dictation. He then invited the brothers and sisters to accompany him on La Via Crucis, adding with severity and indifference, “and if you go there without devotion, so much the worse for you! You are warned!”
He descended from his pulpit and the procession, following him, was again in movement, singing the while a hymn in which the words il peccatore and il salvatore were often repeated to an agreeable and easy melody. In this manner the procession advanced to the twelve altars, which are erected in a circle within the Colosseum, and where each one has some picture from the history of the Saviour's sufferings. At every altar they paused and prayers were repeated, when again the train proceeded, singing as before. It was late and dark when the so-called Via Crucis was
