s fresh as day; when painters and sculptors vied with
antiquity, and poets and historians followed in their path; when every
benign deity was worshipped save Diana and Vesta; when the arts of
courtship and cosmetics were expounded by archbishops; when the beauteous
Imperia was of more account than the eleven thousand virgins; when
obnoxious persons glided imperceptibly from the world; and no one
marvelled if he met the Pope arm in arm with the Devil. How miserable, in
comparison, is the present sapless age, with its prudery and its pedantry,
and its periwigs and its painted coaches, and its urban Arcadias and the
florid impotence and ostentatious inanity of what it calls its art! Pope
Alexander! I see in the spirit the sepulchre destined for _you_, and I
swear to you that my soul shivers in my ratskins! Come, now! I do not
expect you to emulate the Popes of my time, but show that your virtues are
your own, and your faults those of your epoch. Pluck up a spirit! Take
bulls by the horns! Look facts in the face! Think upon the images of Brutus
and Cassius! Recognise that you cannot get rid of me, and that the only
safe course is to rehabilitate me. I am not a candidate for canonisation
just now; but repair past neglect and appease my injured shade in the way
you wot of. If this is done, I pledge my word that every rat shall
forthwith evacuate Rome. Is it a bargain? I see it is; you are one of the
good old sort, though fallen on evil days."

Renaissance or Rats, Alexander the Eighth yielded.

"I promise," he declared.

"Your hand upon it!"

Subduing his repugnance and apprehension by a strong effort, Alexander laid
his hand within the spectre's clammy paw. An icy thrill ran through his
veins, and he sank back senseless into his chair.

III

When the Pope recovered consciousness he found himself in bed, with slight
symptoms of fever. His first care was to summon Cardinal Barbadico, and
confer with him respecting the surprising adventures which had recently
befallen them. To his amazement, the Cardinal's mind seemed an entire blank
on the subject. He admitted having made his customary report to his
Holiness the preceding night, but knew nothing of any supernatural
ratcatcher, and nothing of any midnight rendezvous at the Appartamento
Borgia. Investigation seemed to justify his nescience; no vestige of the
man of rats or of his shop could be discovered; and the Borgian apartments,
opened and carefully searched thr