The monk approached the holy spot with all the reverence with which
his pious spirit inspired him. He hoped to feel the same ecstasy
which he had felt before other sanctuaries and relics, for the
Redeemer Himself had trodden these marble steps heavily as he went
to His doom.
The monk's astonishment was therefore great when he saw
street-urchins playing on them with buttons and little stones,
and he could hardly contain himself when young priests came running
and sprang up the eight and twenty steps in a few bounds.
He paid his devotions in the usual way, but without feeling the
ecstasy which he had hoped for.
Then he went into the Church of the Lateran and heard a mass. He had
imagined that he would find a cathedral in the genuine Gothic style,
something like that of Cologne, but he found a Basilica or Roman
hall, where in heathen times a market had been held, and it looked
very worldly.
At the High Altar there stood two priests before the Epistle and the
Gospel. However, they neither read nor sang; they only gossiped with
each other, and pretended to turn the leaves; sometimes they laughed,
and when it was over they went their way, without giving a blessing
or making the sign of the cross.
"Is this the Holy City?" he asked himself, and went out into the
streets again.
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