seven o'clock
* * * * * But he was still again this morning , and celebrated Saint Silvester , Pope and Martyr , the last saint in the procession of the Christian year , with tolerable equanimity . The sights of last night , the throng of officials , the stately , scarlet , unfamiliar figures of the Cardinals who had come in from north , south , east and west -- these helped to reassure him again -- unreasonably , as he knew , yet effectually . The very air was electric with expectation . All night the piazza had been crowded by a huge , silent mob waiting till the opening of the doors at seven o'clock . Now the church itself was full , and the piazza full again . Far down the street to the river , so far as he could see as he had leaned from his window just now , lay that solemn motionless pavement of heads . The roof of the colonnade showed a fringe of them , the house-tops were black -- and this in the bitter cold of a clear , frosty morning , for it was announced that after mass and the proceeding of the members of the Order past the Pontifical Throne , the Pope would give Apostolic Benediction to the City and the World .