ferent sizes which are always kept in
readiness in a cupboard at the Vatican. Which of them would be required
on this occasion?--the short one, the long one, or the one of medium
size? Each time that the reigning pope falls somewhat seriously ill there
is in this wise an extraordinary outburst of emotion, a keen awakening of
all ambitions and intrigues, to such a point that not merely in the black
world, but throughout the city, people have no other subject of
curiosity, conversation, and occupation than that of discussing the
relative claims of the cardinals and predicting which of them will be
elected.

"Come, come," Prada resumed, "since you know the truth, I'm determined
that you shall tell me. Will it be Cardinal Moretta?"

Santobono, in spite of his evident desire to remain dignified and
disinterested, like a good, pious priest, was gradually growing
impassioned, yielding to the hidden fire which consumed him. And this
interrogatory finished him off; he could no longer restrain himself, but
replied: "Moretta! What an idea! Why, he is sold to all Europe!"

"Well, will it be Cardinal Bartolini?"

"Oh! you can't think that. Bartolini has used himself up in striving for
everything and getting nothing."

"Will it be Cardinal Dozio, then?"

"Dozio, Dozio! Why, if Dozio were to win one might altogether despair of
our Holy Church, for no man can have a baser mind than he!"

Prada raised his hands, as if he had exhausted the serious candidates. In
order to increase the priest's exasperation he maliciously refrained from
naming Cardinal Sanguinetti, who was certainly Santobono's nominee. All
at once, however, he pretended to make a good guess, and gaily exclaimed:
"Ah! I have it; I know your man--Cardinal Boccanera!"

The blow struck Santobono full in the heart, wounding him both in his
rancour and his patriotic faith. His terrible mouth was already opening,
and he was about to shout "No! no!" with all his strength, but he managed
to restrain the cry, compelled as he was to silence by the present on his
knees--that little basket of figs which he pressed so convulsively with
both hands; and the effort which he was obliged to make left him
quivering to such a point that he had to wait some time before he could
reply in a calm voice: "His most reverend Eminence Cardinal Boccanera is
a saintly man, well worthy of the throne, and my only fear is that, with
his hatred of new Italy, he might bring us warfare."

Prada, ho