y. It might be supposed that the fierce inquisitor ripened
into the stern and inflexible cardinal; but no such process of development
took place. And truly it would have been somewhat inconvenient as matters
stood; for his new associates--ranking with kings, every man of them,
hog-boy and all!--were the intellectual flower of the time, deep and
sagacious statesmen, immersed in a game of policy of which the tiara was
the prize, and qualified for the lofty contention not more by their
talents than by the blood of the Medici, the Caraffa, the Colonna, and the
Frangipani, that flowed in their veins. The wild nature of Montalto
appeared to be awed by the association into which he had thus been
elevated. It seemed as if a vision of his stripes, and his hogs, and his
besoms came back upon him, and he walked gingerly along the marble floors
of the Vatican, as if alarmed at the echo. He became mild, affable,
good-natured; his business was over in the world; he had nothing more to
do than to enjoy. Why should he concern himself with intrigues in which he
could have no possible interest? Why should he permit even his own family
to disturb his dignified repose? One of his nephews, on his way to Rome to
see his prodigious uncle and claim his favor, was murdered; but the
cardinal, so ready in former days to punish even crimes of thought,
interceded for the pardon of the assassin. The relatives who did arrive at
the Mecca of their pilgrimage he lodged at an inn, and sent them home to
their families the next day with a small present, telling them to trouble
him no more. The only promise he made for the future was that, by-and-by,
when old age and its infirmities came on, he might, perhaps, send for one
of them to nurse his declining years.

Time wore on, and his patron, Pope Pius V., died, and was buried. This was
a trouble as well as a grief to our cardinal; for, being obliged to enter
the conclave like the rest, he was asked by one and another for his vote.
How should he vote? He did not know whom to vote for. He was an obscure
and insignificant man--he was; and the rest were all so admirably
well-fitted to be Pope, that he could not tell the difference. Besides,
this was the first conclave he had been in, and in a path so much loftier
than he was accustomed to tread, he was afraid of making a false step. He
only wished he could vote for them all; but, as it was, he entreated them
to manage the affair without him. And so they did; and