"No! No!" he cried. "It is impossible. It is a mistake."

Father Ramoni turned quickly. The man who had been his faithful
servant for ten years in Marqua was very dear to him. "What is a
mistake, Pietro?" he asked, coming to the table.

"The Consistory," Father Pietro stammered, "the Consistory has made a
mistake. They have done an impossible thing. They have mixed our
names. This letter to the General--this letter--" he pointed to the
document on the table "--says that I have been made Archbishop of
Marqua."

Ramoni took the letter. As he read it he knew what Pietro had not
known. The news was genuine. The name signed at the letter's end
guaranteed that. Ramoni caught the edge of the table. The pain of the
blow gripped him relentlessly and he knew that it was a pain that
would stay. He had been passed over, ignored, set down for Pietro, who
sat weeping beside the table, his head buried in his hands.

"I can't take it," he was sobbing; "I am not able. It's a mistake, a
terrible mistake."

Ramoni put his hand on the other man's head. "It is true, Pietro," he
said. "You are Archbishop of Marqua. May God bless you!"

But he could say no more. Pietro was still weeping when Ramoni went
away, crossing the cloister on his way to his cell, where, with the
door closed behind him, he fought the battle of his soul.