The tinkling bell of the acolyte sounded, and the assembly fell on their knees as Father Ignatius elevated the sacred host for the adoration of the faithful. The sun by this time had mounted high above the rooftops and was now gilding the chancel-window with its splendour: and from the holy dove figured at the apex of this casement, arrowy beams of mystic and many coloured light slanted full on the head of the aged priest, lighting up a countenance thin and ascetic, yet bearing in every lineament the lofty spirit and iron will of a Hildebrand.
The time had come for the people to receive the Mass. Among the first to advance and kneel reverently at the altar-rails was Angelo. My position prevented me from seeing his face. I could not help wondering whether his faith was sincere, and whether, in accordance with the spirit of the holy mystery, he was in charity with all mankind, even with me, his rival.
The administration of the sacrament was conducted by Father Ignatius accompanied by the deacon, who held the paten under his host as it was placed on the tongue of the receiver. The worthy padre commenced at the Epistle side of the altar. Angelo was the ninth in order from that end. We noticed with surprise that Ignatius, while giving the host to the first eight, never once looked at them, but kept his eyes all the time on Angelo with a fixed stony expression that gave no indication of his thoughts.
I waited with painful interest for the priest to confront Angelo, absurdly thinking there might be some secret between them, and that in addition to the ritual words Ignatius might whisper others not of sacred import. I was certainly not prepared for the result. As Angelo reverently elevated his face to receive the wafer between his lips, Ignatius, affecting not to notice the action, passed him by for the next communicant, and proceeded with the delivery.
I was doubtful at first whether I had seen aright, but the looks interchanged among the assembly told me that others too had observed the action. My wonder found its reflection in the wide-open eyes of Daphne; her arm trembled on mine, but she did not speak; for a deep silence had fallen over all, and the faintest whisper would have attracted attention.