"Tsut—tsut—this is a sad business, a matter infinitely more difficult, forbidden by the Church. What? They parted at the church door? A wench of spirit, I declare. I doubt not like that one who smote Pietro just now. I wonder not at you, save at your moderation—that is, if you speak the truth."
"I do speak the truth!" said Conrad, with northern directness, beginning to flush again.
"Gently—gently," said Sixtus; "there are many minutes in a year, many people go to make a world. I have never seen a man like you before. Be patient, then, with me. I am giving you a great deal of my time. It will be difficult, this marriage—difficult, but not impossible. Peter's coffers are very empty, my son."
The Pontiff paused to give Conrad time to speak.
"I will pay into the treasury of the Holy Father on the day of my marriage a hundred thousand ducats," said Conrad, blushing deeply. It seemed like bribing God.
The Vicegerent of Christ stretched out a smooth white hand, and his smile was almost as gracious as when he turned it upon his nephew Girolamo.
"Spoken like a true prince," he cried, "a son of the Church indeed. Her works—the propagation of the Faith, the Holy Office—these shall benefit by your generosity."
He turned about again and beckoned to the tall young man in the black soutane.
"Guliano, come hither!" he cried, and as he came he explained in his low tones, "My nephew, between ourselves, a dull dog, but will be great. He choked a ruffian who attacked him on the street; so, one day, he will choke this Italy between his hands. He will sit in this chair. Ah, there is one thing that I am thankful for, and it is that I shall be dead when our Julian is Pope. I know not where I shall be—but anything were preferable to being in Rome under Julian—purgatory or——Yes, my dear nephew, Prince Conrad of Courtland! You are to go and prepare documents concerning this noble prince. I will instruct you as to their nature presently. Await me in the hither library."
The young man had been looking steadily at Conrad while his uncle was speaking. It was a firm and manly look, but there was cruelty lurking in the curve of the upper lip. Guliano della Rovere looked more condottiere than priest. Nevertheless, without a word he bowed and retired.