"Behold Roderick Borgia!" whispered Frank, as the masked passed along with his stately stride.
"And the lady who leans upon his arm?"
"Lucretia Borgia!"
Lucretia was masked, but the mask which hid the beauty of her face, could not conceal the richness of her dark hair, which contrasted so vividly with the whiteness of her neck and shoulders. A single lily bloomed in solitary loveliness in the blackness of her hair; her form was encased in a white robe, which adapting itself in easy folds to the shape of her noble bust, is girded lightly to her waist by a scarlet scarf. From the wide sleeve, (edged like the skirt with scarlet), you catch a glimpse of a magnificent hand and arm.
"Worthy, my dear Lucretia, to rule hearts by your beauty and empires by your intellect!" said Roderick.
"Ah, your holiness flatters," was the whispered reply.
"Her shape, indeed, is worthy of Lucretia Borgia," said Frank, as Roderick Borgia and his daughter passed by the central pillar, and disappeared in the shadows.
"Does she inherit the morals as well as the beauty of the woman-fiend whose name she bears?"
Ere Frank could reply, another couple, arm in arm, approached the central pillar. A bulky cardinal in a scarlet hat and robe, holding by the arm a slender youth attired in modern style, in frock coat and trowsers of blue cloth,—the trowsers displaying limbs of unrivaled symmetry, and the frock coat buttoned to the throat over an all too-prominent bust. The cardinal wore a golden cross on his brawny chest, and the brown hair of the slender-waisted youth was gathered neatly beneath a velvet cap, surmounted by a single snowy plume. It was pleasant to note the affection which existed between the grave cardinal and his youthful friend! Not satisfied with suffering the head of the graceful boy to repose on his shoulder, the cardinal encircled that slender waist with his flowing scarlet sleeve! And thus whispering softly—
"Dearest Julia!" said the cardinal, "what think you of that doctrinal point?"