diplomacy.
It was clear from her letters that the Connestabilessa habitually resided at the Spanish court; but what could ever have brought her there? The report by Madama the Connestabilessa (who obviously had the most confidential sources at that court) presented a cruel and apocalyptic picture which contrasted singularly with the tender, and in truth somewhat daring words which Atto dedicated to her at the end of the letter. The correspondence was a bizarre chimera, a cross between love and politics, gallantry and diplomacy. Knowing Abbot Melani, at least two of those ways — sentiment and conspiracy — must, however, be leading up to a practical goal. The way of the heart led to the imminent encounter, after thirty years' separation, between Atto and Maria. The way of politics, however, led to a still unknown objective.
If one were to judge by his words, Melani was interested only in the forthcoming conclave; from what I read in those letters, however, the succession to the Spanish throne was a far more burning question. Atto must have some secret project, said I to myself; secret enough, at least, not to wish to reveal it to me.
Yet I too had eyes and ears; I too knew how to snatch precious details, revealing gossip, murmuring and betrayals from the eminences and princes who were then visiting the Villa Spada. Of course, Atto knew how to interpret these with a skill a thousand times greater than my own. Inured to all the dastardy and cunning intrigues of state, a true artist in behind-the-scenes activity, a handful of pebbles was enough to enable him to compose an entire coloured mosaic. I, however, had relative youth on my side. Was it not I who had snatched from the lips of Cardinal Spinola di Santa Cecilia the words which had put us on the trail of the secret meeting between Spada, Albani and the other Spinola?
My overarching intention, however, was to favour Cardinal Spada my master, even if that meant at the same time helping the reckless Abbot Melani. He, a French subject, was acting on behalf of the King of France. I, in the service of a magnanimous cardinal of the Holy Roman Church, would spy in the name of fidelity and gratitude.
Imprudently, I failed to take into account the fact that he had received a mandate from his lord, while I had not.
While exercised by these cogitations, I had by now rejoined the servant who was distributing the Turkish costumes. Now it was time to transform myself into a human candelabrum to illuminate the table of all those gentlemen and eminences and to satisfy my thirst for knowledge of the highest society, drinking at the freshest of fountains: the court of Rome, that school excelling in all forms of dissimulation and guile. I hoped only that to such intellectual refinement there should not, as on the evening before, be added Melani's expediencies, which could cost me dear. Fortunately, that evening's dinner had been announced by the Steward as being a trifle more modest than the inaugural one the evening before: the nuptials were due on the next day and stomachs were until then to be sheltered from any risks of indigestion that might affect participation in and enjoyment of the magnificent nuptial banquet.
While I was getting dressed, I caught sight of my Cloridia moving briskly towards the pergola, resplendent in the fine festive gown which she had been given for her evening in the gardens, keeping vigilant watch over the Princess of Forano. Knowing her to be near at hand gave me a feeling of great peace and serenity. She too saw me and approached briefly to tell me that the Princess did not feel like attending the dinner and was resting under the pergola.
'The little ones?' I asked, since in the event of lying in, Cloridia would need the assistance of our two daughters.
'They are at home. I do not want them wandering about in these parts, at least, not during the festivities. In case of need, I shall send for them.'
I mentioned that the Connestabilessa would yet again not be arriving, as well as reporting the contents of the letter which I had just read.
'I already have some information for you,' said she, 'but now there's no time. Let us meet here this evening.'
She kissed my forehead and rushed off, leaving me a prey to curiosity about the news which she had in so short a time already gleaned from her women, as well as full of that admiration which her estimable promptness of spirit always aroused in me.
'… And 'tis most curious, if we come to think of it, that the Jubilee should for the first time have been opened by one pope, yet may, God forbid, be closed by another,' slurred Cardinal Moriggia with his mouth full of pike cooked in apple juice, 'which is what would happen if the Holy Father were to pass to a better life and a successor be elected before the end of the year.'
'Most sad, you must mean, Eminence, most sad,' retorted Monsignor d'Aste, Apostolic Commissioner for Arms, choking on his poached turkey alla Suizzera. 'This turkey is really excellent; how was it cooked?'
'Larded with tripe, Your Excellency, pricked with cloves and cinnamon, cooked in wine and water, garnished with peaches in syrup, carved and interspersed with slices of lemon and covered with toasted eggs and sugar,' the Steward hastened to explain to d'Aste, murmuring the recipe in his ear.
'This evening our greedy little Straccetto is making so bold as to correct those higher than he,' whispered Prince Borghese ironically, using the nickname expressly chosen by the Pope who, as Atto had told me, had called D'Aste Monsignor Straccetto (or 'little rag') because of his minuscule and unattractive form.
'Most sad, goodness knows, indeed most sad: that is, I think, just what I said,' Moriggia defended himself, blushing as he gargled with a fine glass of red wine to clear his throat and free himself of his verbal embarrassment.
'Boor,' someone commented without revealing himself, having evidently drunk too much.
Moriggia turned sharply but could not manage to find out who was so rudely insulting him.
'The fried crab is excellent,' said D'Aste, trying to change the subject.
'Oh, exquisite,' agreed Moriggia.
'Boor,' came the insult once again, without anyone being able to identify who had spoken this time either.
'How did the Holy Father's visit to the hospice for poor orphans at San Michele go?' asked Cardinal Moriggia with skilfully simulated interest, in an attempt at distracting attention.
'Oh, magnificently, there was a great crowd and many pious persons who wished to kiss his feet,' replied Durazzo.
'Incidentally, the expeditors of the Datary's office have been granted an indult to obtain remission of their sins by visiting the four basilicas once on the same day during the Jubilee.'
'Quite right too! Even the prisoners and the infirm enjoy special prerogatives,' someone commented from the end of the table.
'A holy and enlightened decision: poor expeditors of the Datary, their condition deserves to be taken into account too,' approved Moriggia in turn.
'Boor.'
This time, two or three guests turned around to see who dared aim such epithets at a member of the Sacred College. But the flow of conversation continued.
''Tis a truly extraordinary Jubilee. Never has there been in Rome an atmosphere of such Christian fervour. And never, I'd say, have so many pilgrims been seen; not even on the glorious Jubilee of Pope Clement X. Is it not true, Your Eminence?' said Durazzo, turning to Cardinal Carpegna, who had personally taken part in the prodigious Jubilee celebrations a quarter of a century earlier.
The Carpegna family was among other things related to the Spada, which on that evening conferred even greater attention upon his every word.
'Oh, that was an extraordinary Jubilee, yes, indeed it was,' muttered the venerable Cardinal Carpegna, rather bent over his dish and with his mouth full, somewhat befuddled by his great age.
'Tell us, tell us about it, Your Eminence, tell us of some memory that is particularly dear to you,' some guests encouraged him.
'Well, well, I remember, for example… Yes, I recall how in the church of Gesu a great machine was erected by Mariani for the adoration of the Most Holy Sacrament, and this drew great multitudes of the people. The apparatus, which was, believe me, most beautiful, represented the triumph of the Eucharistic Lamb among the symbols of the New Testament and the Apocalypse, with a vision of the Evangelist John when he was in reclusion on the isle of Patmos. Under the watchful eyes of the Eternal Father, enveloped in a thousand clouds full of celestial spirits and splendours, seven angels were to be seen with seven trumpets; then one saw a divine Lamb holding a
