The Borgias | Page 8

at their houses, he
thought he would profit by the night-time to carry them himself to
certain persons in his confidence who would have them passed in, as
had been arranged, at the dinner-hour. Then, when the deeds were quite
ready and the servants also, Francesco went out with them, leaving the
two women to dream golden dreams of their future greatness.
From the first dawn of day the people hurried anew, as ardent and
interested as on the evening before, to the Piazza of the Vatican, where,
at the ordinary time, that is, at ten o'clock in the morning, --the smoke
rose again as usual, evoking laughter and murmuring, as it announced
that none of the cardinals had secured the majority. A report, however,
began to be spread about that the chances were divided between three
candidates, who were Roderigo Borgia, Giuliano delta Rovera, and
Ascanio Sforza; for the people as yet knew nothing of the four mules
laden with plate and silver which had been led to Sforza's house, by
reason of which he had given up his own votes to his rival. In the midst
of the agitation excited in the crowd by this new report a solemn
chanting was heard; it proceeded from a procession, led by the Cardinal
Camerlengo, with the object of obtaining from Heaven the speedy
election of a pope: this procession, starting from the church of Ara
Coeli at the Capitol, was to make stations before the principal
Madannas and the most frequented churches. As soon as the silver
crucifix was perceived which went in front, the most profound silence
prevailed, and everyone fell on his knees; thus a supreme calm
followed the tumult and uproar which had been heard a few minutes
before, and which at each appearance of the smoke had assumed a more
threatening character: there was a shrewd suspicion that the procession,
as well as having a religious end in view, had a political object also,
and that its influence was intended to be as great on earth as in heaven.
In any case, if such had been the design of the Cardinal Camerlengo, he
had not deceived himself, and the effect was what he desired: when the
procession had gone past, the laughing and joking continued, but the

cries and threats had completely ceased.
The whole day passed thus; for in Rome nobody works. You are either
a cardinal or a lacquey, and you live, nobody knows how. The crowd
was still extremely numerous, when, towards two o'clock in the
afternoon, another procession, which had quite as much power of
provoking noise as the first of imposing silence, traversed in its turn the
Piazza of St. Peter's: this was the dinner procession. The people
received it with the usual bursts of laughter, without suspecting, for all
their irreverence, that this procession, more efficacious than the former,
had just settled the election of the new pope.
The hour of the Ave Maria came as on the evening before; but, as on
the evening before, the waiting of the whole day was lost; for, as
half-past eight struck, the daily smoke reappeared at the top of the
chimney. But when at the same moment rumours which came from the
inside of the Vatican were spread abroad, announcing that, in all
probability, the election would take place the next day, the good people
preserved their patience. Besides, it had been very hot that day, and
they were so broken with fatigue and roasted by the sun, these dwellers
in shade and idleness, that they had no strength left to complain.
The morning of the next day, which was the 11th of August, 1492,
arose stormy and dark; this did not hinder the multitude from thronging
the piazzas, streets, doors, houses, churches. Moreover, this disposition
of the weather was a real blessing from Heaven; for if there were heat,
at least there would be no sun. Towards nine o'clock threatening
storm-clouds were heaped up over all the Trastevere; but to this crowd
what mattered rain, lightning, or thunder? They were preoccupied with
a concern of a very different nature; they were waiting for their pope: a
promise had been made them for to-day, and it could be seen by the
manner of all, that if the day should pass without any election taking
place, the end of it might very well be a riot; therefore, in proportion as
the time advanced, the agitation grew greater. Nine o'clock, half-past
nine, a quarter to ten struck, without anything happening to confirm or
destroy their hopes. At last the first stroke of ten was heard; all eyes
turned towards the chimney: ten o'clock struck slowly, each stroke

vibrating in the heart of the multitude. At last the tenth stroke trembled,
then vanished shuddering into space, and,