You have
yourself declared that here you would be brother Clement, and nothing
more; now brother Clement was always a healthy man, full of juvenile
spirits and strength."
"Ah, my friend," responded Ganganelli, "I fear the pope has secretly
followed brother Clement even to this place, and even here no longer
leaves him free! No, no, it is no longer brother Clement who sits
groaning here, it is the vicegerent of God, the father of Christendom,
the holy and blessed pope! And if you knew, Lorenzo, what this
vicegerent of God has to suffer and bear, how his blood like streams of
fire runs through his veins, carbonizing his entrails and parching the
roof of his mouth, so that the tongue fast cleaves to it, and he has
no longer the power to complain of his misery! And such a crushed
earth-worm this miserable, infatuated people call the vicegerent of
God, before whom they bow in the dust! Ah, foolish children, are you not
yourselves disgusted with your masquerade, and do you not blush for this
jest?"
"See you not," said Lorenzo, with forced cheerfulness, "that since you
are here you have, against your will, again become brother Clement, and
inveigh against God's vicegerent who holds his splendid court in the
Vatican and Quirinal! Yes, yes that was what brother Clement used to do
in the Franciscan convent; he was always scolding about the pope.
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