"Here
I will forget that I am pope; here I will never be anything more than
brother Clement of the Franciscan convent, nor shall the cares and
troubles of the pope, nor his holiness or infallibility, accompany him
to this dear quiet place. Here I will only be a man, and forgetting my
cramping highness and my forced splendor, will here right humanly enjoy
the sun and this soft green grass, and in deep draughts inhale this
sweet balsamic air. Ah, how happy one may yet be if he can for a moment
escape from the envelope of dignity by which he is kept a chrysalis, and
freely exercise the butterfly wings of manhood! And hear me for once,
brother Lorenzo, so very human has your pope here become, that he feels
a right fresh human appetite. If all here is as it used to be at the
convent, then must you have something to appease my hunger."
Brother Lorenzo nodded with a sly smile. Stepping to the side of the
grassy bank, and slipping aside a small door concealed by the grass, he
disclosed a walled excavation, filled with fruits and pastry.
"I see you have forgotten nothing!" joyfully exclaimed Ganganelli,
taking some of the fragrant fruit which Lorenzo tendered him. "Ah, you
make me very happy, Lorenzo.
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