"Again this old complaint!" said the pope, with a slight contraction of
his brow. "You again speak of her--"
"Of Corilla," interposed the cardinal--"yes of Corilla I speak, of that
heavenly woman whom all the world admires; to whose beautiful verses
philosophers and poets listen with breathless delight, and who well
deserves that you should reward her as a queen by bestowing upon her the
poetic crown!"
"I crown a Corilla!" mockingly exclaimed the pope. "Shall a Corilla
desecrate the spot hallowed by the feet of Tasso and Petrarch? No, I
say, no; when art becomes the plaything of a courtesan, then may the
sacred Muses veil their heads and mourn in silence, but they must not
degrade themselves by throwing away the crown which the best and noblest
would give their heart's blood to obtain. This Corilla may bribe you
poor earthly fools with her smiles and amorous verses, but she will not
be able to deceive the Muses!"
"You refuse me, then, the crowning of the renowned improvisatrice
Corilla?" asked the cardinal, with painfully suppressed rage.
"I refuse it!"
"And why, then, did you send for me?" exclaimed the cardinal with
vehemence. "Was it merely to mock me?"
"It was for the purpose of warning you, my son!" mildly responded the
pope. "For even the greatest forbearance must at length come to an
end; and when I am compelled to forget that you are Alessandro Albani's
nephew, I shall then only have to remember that you are the criminal
Francesco Albani, whom all the world condemns, and whom I must judge!
Repent and reform, my son, while there is yet time; and, above all
things, renounce this love, which heaps new disgrace upon your family
and overwhelms your relatives with sorrow and anxiety!"
"Renounce Corilla!" cried the cardinal. "I tell you I love her, I adore
her, this heavenly, beautiful woman! How can you ask me to renounce
her?"
"Nevertheless I do demand it," said the pope with solemnity, "demand it
in the name of your father, in the name of God, against whose holy laws
you have sinned--you, His consecrated priest."
"But that is an impossibility!" passionately exclaimed Francesco. "One
must bear a heart of stone in his bosom to require it; and that you can
do so only proves that you have never known what it is to love!"
"And that I can do so should prove to you that I have indeed known it,
my son!" sadly responded the pope.
"Whoever has known love knows that there can be no renunciation!"
"And whoever has known love can renounce!" exclaimed the pope, with
animation. "Listen to me, my son, and may the sad story of a short
happiness and long expiation serve you as a warning example! You think
I cannot have known love? Ah, I tell you I have experienced all its joys
and all its sorrows--that in the intoxication of rapture I once forgot
my vows, my duties, my holy resolutions, and, doubly criminal, I also
taught her whom I loved to forget her own sacred duties and to sin! Ah,
you call me a saint, and yet I have been the most abject of sinners!
Under this Franciscan vesture beat a tempestuous, fiery heart that
derided God and His laws; a heart that would have given my soul to the
evil one, had he promised to give me in exchange the possession of my
beloved! She was beautiful, and of a heavenly disposition; and hence,
when she passed through the aisles of the church, with her slight fairy
form, her angelic face veiled by her long dark locks, her eyes beaming
with love and pleasure, a heavenly smile playing about her lips--ah,
when she thus passed through the church, her feet scarcely touching the
floor, then I, who awaited her in the confessional, felt myself nearly
frantic with ecstasy, my brain turned, my eyes darkened, there was a
buzzing in my ears, and I attempted to implore the aid and support of
God."