Yet his mental perturbation was becoming great, he had to seek for ideas, wondering how he should enter the Pope's presence, what he should say, what precise terms he should employ.
Something heavy and mysterious which he could hardly account for seemed to weigh him down.

At bottom he was weary, already exhausted, only held up by his dream, his compassion for human misery.

However, he would enter in all haste, he would fall upon his knees and speak as he best could, letting his heart flow forth.

And assuredly the Holy Father would smile on him, and dismiss him with a promise that he would not sign the condemnation of a work in which he had found the expression of his own most cherished thoughts.
Then, again, such an acute sensation as of fainting came over Pierre that he went up to the window to press his burning brow against the cold glass.

His ears were buzzing, his legs staggering, whilst his brain throbbed violently.