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The catastrophe deserves to be told in Monsignore's own words: "This people, accustomed to rapine, allured by the riches of the Taorminians and the promises of the king, with the aid of the traitors entered unexpectedly into the city, and with bloody swords and mighty cries and clamour assailed the citizens.
Nothing could be more satisfactory than the monsignore's bulletin, announcing to his friends at Rome their ultimate arrangements.
"When we were all in our places, the Most Reverend Archbishop of Milan entered in full vestments, with the priests in ordinary, and began to celebrate mass with the greatest pomp and solemnity, to the sound of trumpets, flutes, and organ-music, together with the voices of the chapel choir, who adapted their singing to Monsignore's time.
But Monsignore's heart was too full for long silence, his fears too great. He spoke hurriedly, pleadingly. "Will you not protect me?" "I may not be able to protect you." "I am tired, my dear Bishop tired, but contented. Here is rest, and peace. And when they come back, you know I want to be near them. Let me stay." "Yes, I know," said the Bishop, and his voice forbade further plea.
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