IT WAS Ash Wednesday in the year 1220, but the city of Rome was far from being in a Lenten mood. A spirit of exhilaration was abroad that did not correspond to sackcloth or ashes. Indeed, one might have thought it already Easter, especially if one looked at the joyful countenance of Stephen Cardinal Orsini. The old man was radiant.
“Napoleon! My young nephew Napoleon!” he kept repeating every few minutes. “A little while ago the lad was dead, but now he lives!”
Nicholas, the Cardinal Bishop of Tusculum, smiled. He had been present that morning at the Monastery of Saint Sixtus when the news had been brought that Napoleon had been thrown from his horse and killed. Others had been present, too, for this was a great day in the Eternal City. Several communities of nuns, heretofore living without cloister, had agreed to band together at the Monastery of Saint Sixtus under the Rule drawn up for them by the holy Spanish preacher Dominic de Guzman. All had been assembled for Mass and the solemn ceremony of inclosure when the messenger had rushed in.
Recalling all these things now, the Cardinal Bishop of Tusculum looked closely at his old friend. “If I live for a hundred years, I’ll never forget this morning’s miracle!” he declared. “Your nephew was really dead, Stephen. Anyone could see that. But this Spanish friar. . .this Father Dominic. . . why, he was not at all alarmed. He comforted you a little, of course—but even I could tell that his thoughts were far away from the tragedy.”
Cardinal Stephen nodded. “Yes, I know. Instead of being distracted, like the rest of us, he went ahead and offered the Holy Sacrifice. When all was over, he came to where Napoleon’s body was stretched on the floor. Then—oh, Nicholas! What wonderful words he spoke!”
Cardinal Nicholas was silent for a moment, remembering how the Spanish friar had knelt beside the broken body of the young man and arranged the shattered limbs; how finally he had arisen, made the Sign of the Cross, then looked heavenwards and cried out joyfully:
“Young man, I say to you, in the Name of Our Lord Jesus Christ, arise!”
Nicholas stretched out a reassuring hand to his old friend. “It has been a wonderful day,” he murmured. “And one to remember forever, Stephen. For we have seen a saint at prayer and at work.”
