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, a great cry breaking simultaneously frog a hundred thousand breasts followed the silence “Non v’e fumo!  There is no smoke!” In other words, “We have a pope.”

At this moment the rain began to fall; but no one paid any attention to it, so great were the transports of joy and impatience among all the people.  At last a little stone was detached from the walled window which gave on the balcony and upon which all eyes were fixed:  a general shout saluted its fall; little by little the aperture grew larger, and in a few minutes it was large enough to allow a man to come out on the balcony.