Innocent's removal if the city and state were to survive-and enjoying Lucrezia's body himself the while.
With Lucrezia clear as to the exact-and fairly simple — nature of her duty, audience was arranged between her and the Pope.
Cardinal Roderigo had her dressed for the occasion in richly embroidered, but simple clothes which would show off the womanliness of her body. He had her plaits let out so that her hair flowed, long and silky to below her shoulders; he placed a string of sapphires set in silver around her neck where they gleamed and threw a blue sheen down onto the visible portion of her bosom, and reflected the bright blue of her eyes.
“My darling daughter-you are already the most beautiful woman in Italy,” he declared when she was ready. “The old sensualist will have an orgasm at the very sight of you.”
“Oh, papa, I trust all will go well,” Lucrezia said anxiously. “I feel a little afraid.”
The Cardinal placed a hand on her buttocks and kissed her gently on the neck.
“Don't you worry, my sweet. A beautiful creature such as you can get away with anything she wishes.”
A little later, Lucrezia and her father were ushered into the Pope's chamber. He had propped himself up against his pillows and had his scanty remaining hair brushed and combed. He stared at Lucrezia with unabashed interest, hardly deigning to acknowledge the Cardinal's greeting.
“Truly you did not exaggerate,” he said, not taking his eyes from Lucrezia.
Lucrezia curtsied and fixed him with her lovely, deep, knowing eyes.
“It is a great honor for me to be in the presence of your Excellency,” she said softly as if in awe. “It is more than such a humble creature as myself could have considered in the realms of possibility.”
“Ah, my child — if child you truly be — you are one of the lucky ones who in their natural goodness and humility deserve the highest honors,” the Pope replied with an attempt at a winning smile.
“My niece is overcome in the presence of Christ's Vicar,” Roderigo cut in. “Such an audience has been her life's object. She did not expect to achieve it so soon.”
“I feel unable to speak,” Lucrezia said in a hushed tone. “Your Excellency must forgive me.”
“My child, come here and give me your hands,” Innocent said paternally. “You shall not be afraid of me. Such beauty as you have, particularly if matched by the beauty of soul your uncle gives you, should fear nothing.”
He took her hands in his skinny, cold fingers. He was amazed at her loveliness and the warm hands in his filled him with a yearning to be well and active. It had taken him but a fraction of a second to appraise her body as best he could see it under her dress and now he allowed his eyes the delight of fleeting anew and resting on the exposed portion of her bosom and on her neck, so young and smooth.
“I am afraid, your Excellency, that I cannot stay,” Cardinal Roderigo said. “I have some important business to see to. I trust you will not find a while with my niece too wearisome. Send I her away if she displeases you.”
“My dear Cardinal,” the Pope answered in sugary tones, “surely you forget yourself. As if such an infant of Christ, reflecting as she does the glorious emblem of early-gained woman-hood, could displease me. Pray go your way Cardinal Roderigo, and much as it grieves me to be deprived so soon of your company, I'm sure I could have no more pleasing visitor than your lovely niece.”
Lucrezia wished she knew how to blush at will. But blushes came less easily than tears. She just dropped her head a little, as if overcome at his words. He still held her hands in his.
Cardinal Roderigo bowed and left the chamber. Even as he stepped over the threshold his thoughts were racing with plans for when the Pope was dead.
Innocent watched the exit of his Cardinal. The girl's hands were still warm in his. He didn't speak until Roderigo had left and the door had closed after him. Then he looked back at Lucrezia with eye which he tried to make kindly.
“But tell me my dear, is it really true that you are only eleven years old?”
“I shall be twelve in a few weeks' time,” she replied demurely.
“My child, you have matured far beyond your age. God has seen fit to prepare you for womanhood — who can tell what his wishes for you are.”
The Pope's mind gloated over her. He could have given his answer to the question he'd just posed. He looked into her face. Truly those eyes were remarkable. There was… what was there? There was
… yes, there was an aura of the devil about them. His eyes widened as this intuition came to him. But then Lucrezia smiled, as if in flattery at his remarks, a shy, innocent smile and Innocent dismissed the devil from her eyes. What nonsense!
“You are studying, I believe, my child. Tell me, how do you find yourself disposed to the acquisition of knowledge?”
“My studies are simple,” she replied. “I find the knowledge of good and evil much more difficult.”
In view of his own thoughts, the Pope was quite startled by her words. What precocious thoughts. And what, exactly, did she mean?
“Good and evil, my dear?” he echoed querulously.
Lucrezia suddenly spoke earnestly; she allowed tears to come into her eyes. She hoped she was sounding convincing.
“Your Excellency, I dared not tell my uncle, but I'm beset by problems. That is why I was so anxious for this audience. I knew that in the light of your holiness and wisdom, I should find guidance.”
The Pope stared at her. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn which had almost thrown him out of his stride.
“My dear,” he said at last, “you are very young and it may well be that the Lord will send you guidance through me. If you would pour out your heart to me, do so.”
So far, so good, Lucrezia thought with an inward smile. She allowed a tear to slip over her cheek. The Pope responded to this display of femininity by pressing her hands.
“My child, my child,” he said — rather theatrically, she thought — 'I had no idea you were so upset.”
“Most Holy Father,” she blurted, “for most of my life I have known what is good and right — and indeed I still do — but recently things have happened which have made me doubt my strength and courage to continue along the path which I know is that of God.”
“Tell me, child, tell me.”
Innocent's interest was quickening. This confession from one so young and beautiful and now so obviously upset might prove very entertaining — on the other hand it might be dismally dull. He moved his hands on hers as if comforting her. He wished he could move them on her breasts.
“It is so terrible — I–I don't think I can.”
“Now, child,” the Pope made his voice slightly stern. He didn't want to miss this now. “You surely would not try to hide anything from God — and I am his representative on this Earth. You can confide in me without fear.”
Lucrezia hesitated a minute, cleverly.
“You must forgive me, Holy Father,” she whispered pathetically.
“Don't be afraid,” he replied majestically. “God is love. All sinners may be forgiven their sins.”
“Well, your Excellency, as I began to tell you, until recently my life was blameless. As a child, they tell me I was extremely good and always obeyed. I was brought up to understand the difference between Good and Evil — it all seemed very simple. A saintly life did not seem an impossible idea.” She paused, and another tear slipped down her face. She brushed it away and tossed back her hair nervously.
“Until — until a little while ago, I visited a friend's house and the friend put me in charge of her eldest son. I liked him very much… and he talked to me. He told me lots of things about men and women until my mind was all confused with what he told me.” She stopped and hung her head, letting the tears flow more freely.
The Pope forced himself to fight against impatience. He thought he was beginning to catch on. What a delightful story. What an unexpected enjoyment this afternoon was providing him.
“Go on, dear. God and I are with you.”
“And finally,” Lucrezia went on brokenly, “he didn't stop with talk. He… took me in the grounds and he kissed me and… and… I believed him… it seemed right… it seemed right… I was all confused… until after it was over I knew I had been wicked.”
The Pope's thought dwelt on the unmentioned, the undescribed. God, what a lucky fellow this friend was. The thought sent shivers up and down his spine. He felt a ripple in his loins which he knew he should smother or the
