He paused,
rinding himself before the entrance to the Gallery of Inscriptions.
Again he listened. Profound silence. An inward voice seemed to say to
him: "Mount the steps. Enter!" Fearlessly he mounted the five steps.
The Via Appia of the Vatican, as broad, perhaps, as the ancient way,
contained not a single lamp. At regular intervals pale streaks of light
lay across the pavement, falling through the windows, which, from among
the tombstones, the cippi, and the pagan sarcophagi, look down upon
Rome. No light fell through the windows of the Christian wall, which
overlook the courtyard of the Belvedere. The distant end of the Gallery,
towards the Chiaramonti Museum, was shrouded in complete darkness.
Then, realising that he was in the very heart of the immense Vatican,
Benedetto was seized with a terror mingled with awe. He approached a
great window, from whence he could see Castel Sant' Angelo and the
innumerable tiny lights dotted over the lower city, while higher up, and
more brilliant, those of the Quirinal shone against the horizon.
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