Zepherin, also a young man -- he had just turned eighteen -- with ideas of his own, may not have been too aware of the swirl of events about him. Nevertheless, he could not fail to notice the evidence of progress in the newly invented automobiles, in the magnificent streetcars and in the amazing new invention which illuminated whole streets without using either oil or gas.

When it was learned that the famous missionary bishop was returning with a real "Indian prince," excitement ran high. At this particular moment, Italians were vitally interested in everything touching South America. Wave after wave of their countrymen had emigrated to those parts and were sending back money which was adding considerably to the general prosperity. Of all the countries of South America, Argentina had absorbed the largest number of these immigrants.

One portrait painted of Zepherin at this time by a journalist ran as follows:

"This young prince of the Andes, now in his eighteenth year, looks every inch a pure American Indian. His face is bronzed from a life spent under the pampa son -- although a certain pallor shows beneath the bronze. His eyes are large, brown, and wonderfully warm. His pleasant voice, polite manner, and general bearing make you at once aware that you are speaking to an educated young man blessed with a keen intelligence. That he is an Indian is unmistakable from the heavy head, the short, thick-set neck, the stocky build and the pronounced tendency to bowleggedness -- the result of earlier years spent in the saddle."

Turin was a city which had been planned, with wide avenues and roads and noble buildings. Called the "royal city" for having housed the first kings of Italy, it had also been the first seat of the newly formed Italian government, and was still an important center of Italian political life. Consequently, there were well in evidence coaches and carriages bearing important-looking people. There were also locally made automobiles, for Signor Agnelli had recently formed a company for their manufacture under the name of what is today called Fiat.

Zepherin's attention, however, was centered on something else. Ever since he had heard that he was going to Turin he could think only of the Oratory of Don Bosco. Don Bosco had died when Zepherin was two years old but his work and spirit still lived on in the Oratory. While showing Zepherin through it, Cagliero told him the story of this famous young man and his equally famous center.

Noblemen and princes of the Church had come here to seek counsel and consolation from this extraordinary man. Its rough walls had witnessed more than one miracle, and, according to Don Bosco himself, had housed more than one saint. Although its great driving force had passed away, the center was still growing and was now headquarters for what was rapidly becoming a worldwide organization.

What Zepherin was most interested in, however, were the rooms where the saints had lived for thirty-five years. Since nothing had changed he could see for himself how simple a life this man had led. The bedroom contained nothing more than an iron bed, a night table, a chair, a well-worn desk and a kneeler across which hung a faded purple stole.

Reverentially he examined these ordinary objects which time was slowing transforming into the relics of a saint. When he raised his eyes to question Cagliero, he found him standing in the middle of the room, immersed in thought. With his usual directness, especially where Cagliero was concerned, he pulled at his sleeve and asked, "What are you thinking of, Bishop?"

"Of many things." Cagliero did not seem inclined to speak until he saw the look in the boy's eyes. "Well, since it may interest you more than most people, I'll tell you!" he said. "I was thinking of the time when Don Bosco foretold my future."

Zepherin's face lit up with interest.

"That was when the cholera hit Turin. People died in droves and the city panicked. Don Bosco asked the older boys if they would volunteer to help the sick, and we did. He promised us that if we kept in the state of grace and wore a medal of Our Lady, not one of us would be touched by the plague."

"And were you all safe?"

"No quite. After one particularly long stretch at the lazaretto, I came home with a temperature and went to bed. When I got worse they called the doctor. His verdict? I wouldn't last another day!"

"But Don Bosco had promised --"

"Yes, it did look bad for my life and his reputation. They told me to prepare myself for my last confession. What happened after that was related to me by Don Bosco -- not then, but the day before I was made a bishop. When he opened the door he stopped cold: he couldn't understand what he saw in front of him. He saw a white dove hovering over my head, shedding light and holding an olive branch in its beak. It brushed its wings against my brow and lips and let the olive branch fall on my bed. Then it flew into a ball of light and disappeared."

Zepherin was about to interrupt but Cagliero held up his hand.

"That's not all. While walking toward my bed he had a second vision. This time he saw a group of Indians bent over me and from their gestures he figured they were trying to get me to come with them. They, too, disappeared. When it struck him that the others hadn't seen a thing he kept mum, and after hearing my confession, asked me if I wanted to go to heaven. When I told him that I wanted to do what was best for my soul he said that I still had a lot of work to do. `You'll become a priest,' he told me, `and with your breviary under your arm, you'll go far, far away . . . '"

Zepherin opened his eyes. "How strange and wonderful! But what about his promise? HE said no on would catch cholera."

"Nobody did. I had overworked myself and this together with the unsanitary conditions of the lazaretto had brought me down with an attack of typhoid."

Cagliero placed his hand on Zepherin's shoulder. "In these rooms he performed more than one miracle; and in these rooms I saw him die. I was still in Argentina when something warned me that he needed me. I was with him to the end." Crossing the rooms to the window overlooking the playground, he pointed to a cluster of grapevines which clung like ivy around the windows. "See those grapes?" he said. "He wouldn't let a soul touch them. They would have to stay here, he said, until I came back from South America. He wanted to keep them for his favorite son. My friend, that was Don Bosco! Any wonder he could command my loyalty?"

His eyes grew dim and it seemed that he would fall back into a reverie. Instead, he suddenly became aware again of the presence of Zepherin. "Now look here, young man," he said crisply, "we're off to Rome tomorrow. If you don't get ready at once, I'll tell the Holy Father you didn't want to see him. We're catching an early train, so start packing!"

Cagliero occupied the journey in giving Zepherin a brief history of the two Romes, one pagan, the other Christian, adding that they had never been at peace. Even at that moment the Vatican was not on speaking terms with the Quirinal, seat of the Italian government, and had not been ever since the Italians had seized the Papal States.

Rome, too, was the city most disturbed by the changing times. It had scarcely recovered from the terrible siege of 1898 during which troops had been stationed at every street corner. Political upheavals had caused the government to lose all dignity and prestige. The city had become the battleground for the most divergent ideologies. The shouts of all these, nevertheless, were drowned out by the voice of the poet-warrior, Gabriele D'Annunzio, who had shrewdly discerned the country's temper when he had demanded fulfillment of "Italy's destiny." As the prophet of the age he was writing a new gospel for the Italians.

Since it was a week before their audience, they used the time in visiting the Eternal City.

To the Rome of the pagans, Zepherin reacted simply and directly. When, for the first time, he came upon the undraped statues in public places he was shocked. Such things, he commented, would not have been tolerated for a moment in the tolderias!

To the Rome of the Popes he felt a deep attachment, instilled in him since his earliest contacts with Cagliero, who made him aware that in Rome every street had been trod by a martyr's foot, every stone washed by a martyr's blood. To him the places of greatest interest were the Christian monuments, the churches and the catacombs. For him, the history of the Church was depicted in the paintings and the statuary of the apostles, saints and martyrs.

When the time came for his group to have its audience at the Vatican, Cagliero led them through the side gate of St. Peter's. The Swiss guards in their flamboyant uniforms drew in their halberds and snapped to attention for the archbishop.

After they had climbed the long flight of stairs leading to the papal chambers, a papal count in black breeches escorted Cagliero through a white door at the end of a corridor. The others were shown in a large antechamber to wait until he had finished his private audience. It was a long audience, for he had much to tell, and the Holy Father had many questions to ask about the Church in far-off South America.

While the members of the group kept up a low buzz of conversation, Zepherin, subdued by the splendor of the surroundings, stared at the tapestried walls, the gilded doorways and the ornate ceilings. In the loggias of the Vatican he had noticed the tapestries, the paintings, and the precious marbles -- treasures enough to enrich a hundred museums. Yet Pius X, the man who inhabited this palace, was above it all. He preferred to live a simple life, since he had been born in a house not much better than a toldo.

Suddenly the white door flung open and through it came, not Cagliero, but a monsignor in purple robes who beckoned the group. They followed him into a much larger and even more ornate salon. At the far end of this room on a red-carpeted dais rested a golden throne; on each side of this throne stood a monsignor also dressed in purple robes. On the throne itself sat a figure clothed in white who, even as they entered, rose and with his arms outstretched, came forward to greet them. Zepherin found the physical appearance of the Pope distinctly pleasing. He was both tall and robust, and his face was full and handsome. Zepherin felt himself drawn to such warmth and goodness.

The election of Pius X the previous year had caused a sensation. Although born extremely poor, Joseph Sarto possessed a brilliant mind. His love of learning, talent for administration and zeal for the welfare of souls had induced his friends to launch him on an ecclesiastical career which ended in his appointment as Cardinal Patriarch of Venice. At the election following the death of Leo XIII, he received on the first count five votes out of a possible sixty-two. On the second, when he received ten he had whispered to his companions: "They are making fun of me!" When on the fifth ballot he was elected, he adopted as his motto: "To restore all things in Christ." Two things endeared him to Zepherin. The first was that when children were not allowed to receive Holy Communion below the ages of eleven or twelve, he decreed that they should be allowed to receive as soon as they could distinguish "between bread and Bread." The second was that in his will he wrote: "I was born poor, I have lived poor, and I wish to die poor."

When the group came up, the Holy Father extended his hand that they might kiss the Ring of the Fisherman. Cagliero signaled Zepherin to come forward. The Holy Father, bending over, put his arm around the boy and held him close for a moment; then, with a smile, released him.

Cagliero whispered to the Holy Father that Zepherin had a little speech to read from his people. Zepherin, with a slight tremor in his voice, thanked the Holy Father in the name of his people for having sent Cagliero to bring the faith to them: he expressed the devotion of his people for His Holiness and was happy to be their spokesman in paying homage to him. He repeated his wish to become an apostle to his people.

Zepherin had read the speech with so much feeling that the Holy Father himself was moved. When he had finished he came forward and knelt down; the Pope raised him to his feet and embraced him.

Cagliero, too, had tears in his eyes as he listened to the Holy Father's reply: "We hope with all our heart, that your worthy desires may be fulfilled and we bless your family and all the people of Patagonia." Turning to Cagliero he continued: "We are well aware of your extraordinary growth, of the good you are doing, and the many works of Christian charity entrusted to you prove that Divine Providence lovingly watches over you."

Urged on by Cagliero, Zepherin offered a typical product of the pampas: a rug made from the skins of guanaco. The Pope at once told him to spread it under his feet.

Evidently affected more than usual by such an audience, Pius X, instead of dismissing them, insisted that they come to his private apartments. He invited them to tell him all about their experiences in Patagonia, and the conversation naturally brought out the fact that with the elevation of Cagliero the vicariate was left vacant. Everybody would have like to ask the Holy Father whom he had in mind to succeed Cagliero, but no one dared. No one except Zepherin. Responding to the familiarity with which the Holy Father had treated him, he asked the question that was on everybody's lips: "Holy Father, who are you going to send to Patagonia to take the place of Archbishop Cagliero?"

Showing no sign of surprise, the Holy Father good-humoredly whispered to him, "This we are not supposed to tell."

When the audience finally came to an end, Zepherin was the last to leave. He was already outside the apartment when a monsignor hurried out to call him back. "The Holy Father wishes to see you," he said.

When he returned to the apartments he discovered the Pope rummaging in his desk, until, finally, he found what he was looking for: a large silver medal in a leather case. On one side it had his portrait and on the reverse that of Mary Immaculate. It had been struck to commemorate both his elevation to the papacy and for the declaration of the Dogma of the Immaculate Conception.

Taking it out of its case, he handed it to the kneeling boy. Then, before sending him off to join the others, he gave him a final, paternal embrace.