A good friend sends this little tale of humility along, taken from a long-ago item in the New York Times
On the day of the consistory the Cardinal-designate waits in his apartments, dressed in beautiful robes, usually surrounded by friends, until the papal Master of Ceremonies, formally announces the honor to which he is about to be raised and accompanies him to the Vatican. [...]
Cardinal Barnabo, on the other hand, forgot all about the consistory, and, on being searched for, was found hearing confessions while the court awaited him at the Vatican.
The majority of the piece seems to spend way too much time censoriously agog at the cardinals' elaborate traditional wardrobe (one wonders how it might compare in comfort and extent to the Rockefellers and Vanderbilts of their day, just as pricey but far more drab), but this reminds us that men who wear red silk are quite capable of being humble.