走出教皇厅的时候,占满卡路狄亚头脑的自然并非那个还在遥远未来的圣战,他想起了一首儿时在孤儿院习得的歌谣: I throw the apple at you and if you are willing to love me take it and share your boyhood with me but if your thoughts are what I pray they are not even then take it and consider how short-lived is beauty