[The Pope continues rubbing the frescoes with his hands.
All new—
I will make all things new.
Cesare enters hurriedly and is already some distance in the room, when he sees the Pope, Fiammetta and the Child. He stops dead, and remains immovable. Under his eyes Fiammetta puts the Child down and goes out. The Child watches the Pope and Cesare round-eyed, then creeps to the curtains and plays with the heavy tassels. The Pope stands, with wrinkled forehead, uneasy.
CESARE.
[With a wide smile.] You know that Prince Alfonso has been killed?
ALEXANDER.
[Trembling.] Killed?
The boy was up and dressed, and felt his feet
For the first time to-day.... Why do you stand there
So overwhelming in your aspect, lofty
As you had won a fortress? On my soul,
And by the Holy Fisherman I swear,
You frighten me.... And I regret the lad—
A pretty, flaunting flower of pomegranate
Jerked from the bough....
[Cesare remains immovable, muttering oaths between his teeth.
But we must cloak this death.
[Laying his hand on Cesare.] I will not listen; it is policy
In most things to be ignorant.... You, Cesare,
Must have the ordering of the funeral.
Poor lad! A restless creature, like a dog
That strays about your hearth, and may be here
To-morrow or be gone—Satan that wanders
The earth alone knows where.... But murdered!
I think I will not know; my ears refuse
All knowledge from you.... We must cloak this death
Among ourselves.
[The Pope turns away tottering.