He sat alone in an apartment of regal splendor and magnificence, in the palace of the Borgias. He was an elderly man, upon whose visage there was no look of manhood, upon whose heart there was nothing written but a damning record of crime.
"Well, let it be so," he muttered, arousing from his musings. "The cardinals have decided that Signora Fortello's life belongs to them, and let the deed be done. It is all for the good of the church; her wealth will swell our coffers greatly; ay, let her die. And yet she was the only friend I had when first I came to Rome, a poor Spanish adventurer. It was her influence that made me a cardinal, and that placed me in a position to make myself a Pope. Never mind; her death will add much to my riches; therefore she must die!"
For a moment he was silent; then he raised his hand, and rang a bell that stood upon the table.
A servant entered.
"If Donna Lucretia is in the palace, inform her that I desire to have her visit me at once," said the Pope. "I will discover whether she loves this Mereado or not," he soliloquized, after the man had gone. "If she does, as I suspect, both shall feel my vengeance! Poor fool! she knows not that I consider myself her lover, rather than her father. But we shall see—we shall see!"
As the Pope paused, Donna Lucretia entered. There was a slight shade of anxiety upon her face, but yet she seemed firm and composed.
"Ruflo said you had sent for me. It is very kind of you, dear father!" And she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
"Be seated here beside me," said the Pope, with all
