“Look, Caesar; behold the work of your new friends.”

“But what does it mean, mother?” asked the cardinal.  “Whence comes all this disorder?”

“From the serpent,” replied Rosa Vanozza, gnashing her teeth,—­“from the serpent you have warmed in your bosom.  He has bitten me, fearing no doubt that his teeth would be broken on you.”

“Who has done this?” cried Caesar.  “Tell me, and, by Heaven, mother, he shall pay, and pay indeed!”

“Who?” replied Rosa.  “King Charles viii has done it, by the hands of his faithful allies, the Swiss.  It was well known that Melchior was away, and that I was living alone with a few wretched servants; so they came and broke in the doors, as though they were taking Rome by storm, and while Cardinal Valentino was making holiday with their master, they pillaged his mother’s house, loading her with insults and outrages which no Turks or Saracens could possibly have improved upon.”

“Very good, very good, mother,” said Caesar; “be calm; blood shall wash out disgrace.  Consider a moment; what we have lost is nothing compared with what we might lose; and my father and I, you may be quite sure, will give you back more than they have stolen from you.”

“I ask for no promises,” cried Rosa; “I ask for revenge.”

“My mother,” said the cardinal, “you shall be avenged, or I will lose the name of son.”

Having by these words reassured his mother, he took her to Lucrezia’s palace, which in consequence of her marriage with Pesaro was unoccupied, and himself returned to the Vatican, giving orders that his mother’s house should be refurnished more magnificently than before the disaster.  These orders were punctually executed, and it was among her new luxurious surroundings, but with the same hatred in her heart, that Caesar on this occasion found his mother.  This feeling prompted her cry of joy when she saw him once more.

The mother and son exchanged a very few words; then Caesar, mounting on horseback, went to the Vatican, whence as a hostage he had departed two days before.  Alexander, who knew of the flight beforehand, and not only approved, but as sovereign pontiff had previously absolved his son of the perjury he was about to commit, received him joyfully, but all the same advised him to lie concealed, as Charles in all probability would not be slow to reclaim his hostage: 

Indeed, the next day, when the king got up, the absence of Cardinal Valentino was observed, and as Charles was uneasy at not seeing him, he sent to inquire what had prevented his appearance.  When the messenger arrived at the house that Caesar had left the evening before, he learned that he had gone out at nine o’clock in the evening and not returned since.  He went back with this news to the king, who at once suspected that he had fled, and in the first flush of his anger let the whole army know of his perjury.  The soldiers then remembered the twenty waggons, so heavily