The Daughter of an Empress

An approaching bustling, a vehement calling and screaming, disturbed

the two old men. It was Lorenzo who was called, and he quickly glided

through the bushes to look after the cause of this disturbance. But soon

he returned with a melancholy face and depressed mien.

"Brother Clement," said he, "it is already all over with our enjoyment,

which has been so great for me that I forgot to remind you that the pope

cannot neglect the hour in which he gives audience. That hour has now

come, and your anteroom is already filled with princes and prelates."

"And yet you speak of the great happiness of being pope," said

Ganganelli, rising with a sigh from the grassy bank. "I am not allowed

an hour for recreation, and yet people think--but no," said Ganganelli,

interrupting himself and laughing, "we should not be ungrateful, and it

would be ungrateful for me now to complain. If I have not had an hour

for recreation, well, I have had half an hour, and even that is much!"

And, beckoning to brother Lorenzo to follow him, the pope crept through

the bushes that separated the place from the more frequented part of the

garden.

As he then walked up the grand alley, his face and his whole form

assumed a very different appearance. The mild friendliness had vanished

from his features, pride and dignity were now expressed by them, and

his tall, erect form had in it something noble and imposing; it was no

longer the stooping form of age, but only that of a somewhat elderly

hero. The brother Clement had been transformed into the prince of the

Church, who was about to receive his vassals.

They now saw a tall, manly form hastening down the alley directly toward

the pope.

"Who is it?" asked Ganganelli, half turning toward Lorenzo, who was

following him.

"It is Juan Angelo Braschi, the former treasurer, to whom you yesterday

sent the cardinal's hat."

"Ah, the beautiful Braschi," sadly murmured Ganganelli. "The beloved of

the favorite of my nephew, of the Cardinal Rezzonico. Ah, how bad the

world is!"

In fact, he whom Ganganelli called the "beautiful" Braschi, well

deserved that epithet. No nobler or more plastic beauty was to be

seen; no face that more reminded one of the divine beauty of ancient

sculpture, no form that could be called a better counterfeit of the

Belvedere Apollo. And it was this beauty which liberal Nature had

imparted to him as its noblest gift, which helped Juan Angelo Braschi,

the son of a poor nobleman of Cesara, to his good fortune, his highest

offices and dignities. Not for his merits, but solely for his beauty,

did the women bestow upon him their love; and as among these women there

were some who exercised an important influence upon powerful cardinals,

Braschi had quickly mounted from step to step, crowding aside those who

had nothing but their merits and services to speak for them.