neither of them felt, and exchanging oaths that were broken beforehand, a messenger from Rosa Vanozza had arrived with a letter to Caesar, in which she begged him to come at once to her house in the Via delta Longara.  Caesar questioned the messenger, but he only replied that he could tell him nothing, that he would learn all he cared to know from his mother’s own lips.  So, as soon as he was at liberty, Caesar, in layman’s dress and wrapped in a large cloak, quitted the Vatican and made his way towards the church of Regina Coeli, in the neighbourhood of which, it will be remembered, was the house where the pope’s mistress lived.

As he approached his mother’s house, Caesar began to observe the signs of strange devastation.  The street was scattered with the wreck of furniture and strips of precious stuffs.  As he arrived at the foot of the little flight of steps that led to the entrance gate, he saw that the windows were broken and the remains of torn curtains were fluttering in front of them.  Not understanding what this disorder could mean, he rushed into the house and through several deserted and wrecked apartments.  At last, seeing light in one of the rooms, he went in, and there found his mother sitting on the remains of a chest made of ebony all inlaid with ivory and silver.  When she saw Caesar, she rose, pale and dishevelled, and pointing to the desolation around her, exclaimed: 

“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.