h member of the holy
college was shut up in a separate room; and the messengers always found
Montalto's door bolted. He would reply to their eminences, he said, the
moment his cough abated, the moment he felt any intermission of his
excruciating pains. But why could they not proceed to business without
him? The opinions of so insignificant a person could not at any time be
necessary; but, surely, it was inhuman to disturb a man fast sinking under
disease, and whose thoughts were fixed upon that world to which he was
hastening. The conclave sat fourteen days, and even then the votes of the
three parties were equally divided. What was to be done? The best way was
to have a nominal Pope, for the shortest possible time, so that the
struggle of the real competitors might begin anew. They accordingly
elected unanimously to the papal throne--the Ass of La Marca!

On this announcement the new monarch came instantly forth from his cell,
leaving behind him his staff, his cough, his stoop, his pains, his
infirmities, and his humility! He advanced with an erect figure, and a
firm and dignified step into the midst of the conclave, and thanked their
eminences for the honor they had conferred upon him, which he would
endeavor to merit by discharging its high functions conscientiously. As he
passed from the sacred council the _vivas_ of the people rent the air.
"Long live the Pope!" they cried: "justice, plenty, and large loaves!"
"Address yourselves to God for plenty," was the answer: "_I will give you
justice._"

And he kept his word: ready, stern, severe, inflexible, impartial justice!
He was impatient to see the triple crown; and before preparations could be
made for his coronation, he caused the bauble to be produced, and placed
on a velvet cushion in the room where he sat. The bauble? It was no bauble
to him. It was the symbol of Power, just as he was himself the
personification of Will. It was the thought which had governed his whole
life--which had blazed even in the unconscious eyes of his boyhood. With
what memories was that long gaze filled--with what resolves. The room was
crowded with spectres of the past, and visions of the future, that met and
blended in one homogeneous character; and as Pope Sixtus V. rose from his
chair, he felt proudly that there rose with him--within him--throughout
him--the hog-boy of Montalto.

The dissimulation which was so remarkable a trait in this remarkable
character was now at an end, and o