The priest shook his head.
'And her body is quite undecayed, you say.'
'Less so than yours or mine,' retorted the priest.
'And yet she died—'
'More than five hundred years ago.'
'Excuse me, Father Colville, but really—'
'You think this strange; but does not Volterranus tell us of the body of a young girl—fair, delicate, and beautiful—being found in a Roman sepulchre during the pontificate of Alexander VI.?'
'Very likely; but I do not believe in Volterranus.'
'He says, that she was enclosed in a marble chest: her loveliness dazzled all; her hair, which was long and flaxen, was gathered upon her head by a tiara of shining gold. At her feet stood a burning lamp, the light of which was extinguished by the atmosphere on the vault being opened. And, by an inscription on her tomb, this fair young girl proved to be "Tulliola, the best-beloved daughter of Cicero;" but because she was an unbaptized pagan, Pope Alexander ordered her body, so wonderfully preserved, to be cast into the Tiber, which was done accordingly. But to return: our shrine of St. Lucy was visited, in 1609, by the Duchess of Lorraine—a lady of the house of Mantua.'
'The mother of the present Prince of Vaudemont.'