The Daughter of an Empress

Thus speaking, the pope slightly nodded an adieu to the cardinal, and

withdrew into his study, the door of which he carefully closed after

him.

There was he long heard to walk the room with measured steps. Then all

was still. No one ventured to disturb him. Hours passed. Lorenzo, with

a fearful presentiment, knelt before the door. He laid his ear to the

keyhole and tried to listen. All was still within, nothing stirred.

At length he ventured to call the pope's name--at first low and

tremulously, then louder and more anxiously, and as no answer was

received, he at last ventured to open the door.

At his writing-table sat the pope; his face deadly pale, with staring

eyes and great drops of perspiration on his forehead. Immovable sat he

there, his right hand, which held a pen, resting on a parchment lying

upon the table before him.

Like an image of wax, so stiff, so motionless was he, that Lorenzo,

shuddering, made the sign of the cross upon his brow. Then, noiselessly

advancing, he timidly and anxiously touched the pope's shoulder.

Ganganelli shuddered, and a slight trembling pervaded his members; he

then drew a long breath, and, casting a dull glance at his faithful

friend, said: "Lorenzo, let my coffin be ordered, and pray for my soul. I have just

now signed my own death-sentence. See, there it lies. I have signed

the decree abolishing the order of the Jesuits! I must therefore

die, Lorenzo. It is all over and past with our shady place and our

recreations. My murderers are already prowling around me, for I tell you

I have myself signed my death-sentence!"