boatman of the Tiber deposed to having watched the body of a man thrown
into the river on the night of the Duke's death, the 14th of June; he
had not thought it worth while to report this fact, for he had seen 'a
hundred bodies in his day thrown into the water at the said spot, and no
questions asked about them afterwards.' The Pope had the Tiber dragged
for some hours, while the wits of Rome made epigrams upon this true
successor of S. Peter, this new fisher of men. At last the body of the
Duke of Gandia was hauled up: nine wounds, one in the throat, the others
in the head and legs and trunk, were found upon the corpse. From the
evidence accumulated on the subject of the murder it appeared that
Cesare had planned it; whether, as some have supposed, out of a jealousy
of his brother too dreadful to describe, or, as is more probable,
because he wished to take the first place in the Borgia family, we do
not know exactly. The Pontiff in his rage and grief was like a wild
beast driven to bay. He shut himself up in a private room, refused food,
and howled with so terrible a voice that it was heard in the streets
beyond his palace. When he rose up from this agony, remorse seemed to
have struck him. He assembled a Conclave of the Cardinals, wept before
them, rent his robes, confessed his sins, and instituted a commission
for the reform of the abuses he had sanctioned in the Church. But the
storm of anguish spent its strength at last. A visit from Vannozza, the
mother of his children, wrought a sudden change from fury to
reconcilement. What passed between them is not known for certain;
Vannozza is supposed, however, to have pointed out, what was
indisputably true, that Cesare was more fitted to support the dignity of
the family by his abilities than had been the weak and amiable Duke of
Gandia. The miserable father rose from the earth, dried his eyes, took
food, put from him his remorse, and forgot together with his grief for
Absalom the reforms which he had promised for the Church.

Henceforth he devoted himself with sustained energy to building up the
fortunes of Cesare, whom he released from all ecclesiastical
obligations, and to whose service he seemed bound by some mysterious
power. Nor did he even resent the savageness and cruelty which this
young hell-cat vented in his presence on the persons of his favorites.
At one time Cesare stabbed Perotto, the Pope's minion, with his own
hand, when the youth had taken refuge in Alex