And believe me, that’s so much better.

From Trying to Please by John Julius Norwich.  Page 240.

The following day was given over to papal audiences. The Duke was allotted, as I remember, twenty minutes; I was to be allowed in at the very end to escort him from the audience chamber. The protocol was nowhere nearly as elaborate as it had been when my mother and I had our audience with Pius XII; still, it was impressive enough. In I went, made my carefully rehearsed reverences and received a blessing—accompanied, to my surprise, by a small leather case. The Pope explained. He had already given the Duke a commemorative medal bearing his portrait struck in gold; he wished me to have a silver one, but unfortunately the silver ones were not yet ready. Mine would be sent as soon as possible (it was) but meanwhile he would like me to have something to take with me now. “And so,” he said, “I give you this silver medal of my predecessor, Pope John. And believe me, that’s so much better.” I could see that he meant it, and felt the tears come into my eyes. They do so again as I write these words.”

I count those three or four days as one of the great experiences of my life. Of course they were fascinating, of course they were fun; but they were also immensely impressive. The Duke, as Earl Marshal of England, had been personally responsible for all the arrangements in connection with the Queen’s Coronation in 1953;41 no one understood the complications better than he. But, he pointed out, he had had over a year to organize the event. The Vatican had only a couple of weeks. Yet in that time they had invited representatives from every country in the world, found accommodation for them, laid on countless receptions, tackled a thousand problems of precedence and protocol and—as far as any of us could see—not once put a foot wrong. They had even managed to get a gold commemorative medal designed and struck. Had he not seen it himself, the Duke said, he would not have believed it possible. Neither would I.