“Well, Francesco, what news?”
“Good news, my mother; good, my sister,” replied the young man, kissing the one and giving his hand to the other. “Our father has gained three votes to-day, but he still needs six to have the majority.”
“Then is there no means of buying them?” cried the elder of the two women, while the younger, instead of speaking, asked him with a look.
“Certainly, my mother, certainly,” replied the young man; “and it is just about that that my father has been thinking. He is giving Cardinal Orsini his palace at Rome and his two castles of Monticello and Soriano; to Cardinal Colanna his abbey of Subiaca; he gives Cardinal Sant’ Angelo the bishopric of Porto, with the furniture and cellar; to the Cardinal of Parma the town of Nepi; to the Cardinal of Genoa the church of Santa Maria-in-Via-Lata; and lastly, to Cardinal Savelli the church of Santa Maria Maggiore and the town of Civita Castellana; as to Cardinal Ascanio-Sforza, he knows already that the day before yesterday we sent to his house four mules laden with silver and plate, and out of this treasure he has engaged to give five thousand ducats to the Cardinal Patriarch of Venice.”
“But how shall we get the others to know the intentions of Roderigo?” asked the elder of the two women.
“My father has provided for everything, and proposes an easy method; you know, my mother, with what sort of ceremonial the cardinals’ dinner is carried in.”
“Yes, on a litter, in a large basket with the arms of the cardinal far whom the meal is prepared.”
“My father has bribed the bishop who examines it: to-morrow is a feast-day; to the Cardinals Orsini, Colonna, Savelli, Sant’ Angelo, and the Cardinals of Parma and of Genoa, chickens will be sent for hot meat, and each chicken will contain a deed of gift duly drawn up, made by me in my father’s name, of the houses, palaces, or churches which are destined for each.”
“Capital!” said the elder of the two women; “now, I am certain, all will go well.”
“And by the grace of God,” added the younger, with a strangely mocking smile, “our father will be pope.”
“Oh, it will be a fine day for us!” cried Francesco.
“And for Christendom,” replied his sister, with a still more ironical expression.
“Lucrezia, Lucrezia,” said the mother, “you do not deserve the happiness which is coming to us.”