Inside the vast chamber a small wooden cell, just large enough to contain a narrow bed and a chair, had been erected for the accommodation of each Cardinal.
The occupation of these tiny compartments was decided by lot, so it will be understood that I experienced a sensation of uneasy surprise on finding that Cardinal Salvatierra had obtained the cubicle adjoining that of the Patriarch of Venice.
I do not feel myself at liberty to violate the secrecy of the Conclave by relating minutely the steps which I took to secure support for Cardinal Sarto. I obtained a few votes in the first ballot, but not enough to afford any promise of ultimate success.
Cardinal Rampolla struck his first and last blow. He polled his full number of votes, and fell short of the requisite two-thirds majority. Then realising that the jealousy of his great powers was too strong to be overcome, he retired from the contest.
This left the field open to the two rival Mendicant Orders. Their nominees, whom I think it more respectful not to name, polled vote for vote, but neither could command anything like the number of suffrages required.
It appeared likely that the Conclave would last some time. In the second ballot I was surprised to find that a fair number of votes was given to my supposed master. Cardinal Salvatierra appeared equally surprised, and a little annoyed by this circumstance.
‘I wish they would ignore me,’ he said testily, when I brought him his dinner. ‘They know I am not a possible Pope, and they will injure me with the successful candidate.’
I said nothing, but an idea was already germinating in my mind. Before the next scrutiny I waited with the utmost secrecy upon the two Cardinals who were managing the election on behalf of the Dominicans and Franciscans respectively.
To each of their Eminences I said practically the same thing.
‘You cannot succeed in carrying your nominee. Neither can your rivals. Meanwhile the Jesuits are secretly preparing to gather in the scattered votes and concentrate them on their own candidate.’