doing so he repeated the words of the formula, his heart all aglow with
faith as he asked that the divine mercy might efface each and every sin
that the young man had committed by either of his five senses, those five
portals by which everlasting temptation assails the soul. And the
Cardinal's fervour was also instinct with the hope that if God had
smitten the poor sufferer for his offences, perhaps He would make His
indulgence entire and even restore him to life as soon as He should have
forgiven his sins. Life, O Lord, life in order that the ancient line of
the Boccaneras might yet multiply and continue to serve Thee in battle
and at the altar until the end of time!

For a moment the Cardinal remained with quivering hands, gazing at the
mute face, the closed eyes of the dying man, and waiting for the miracle.
But no sign appeared, not the faintest glimmer brightened that haggard
countenance, nor did a sigh of relief come from the withered lips as Don
Vigilio wiped them with a little cotton wool. And the last prayer was
said, and whilst the frightful silence fell once more the Cardinal,
followed by his assistant, returned to the chapel. There they both knelt,
the Cardinal plunging into ardent prayer upon the bare tiles. With his
eyes raised to the brass crucifix upon the altar he saw nothing, heard
nothing, but gave himself wholly to his entreaties, supplicating God to
take him in place of his nephew, if a sacrifice were necessary, and yet
clinging to the hope that so long as Dario retained a breath of life and
he himself thus remained on his knees addressing the Deity, he might
succeed in pacifying the wrath of Heaven. He was both so humble and so
great. Would not accord surely be established between God and a
Boccanera? The old palace might have fallen to the ground, he himself
would not even have felt the toppling of its beams.

In the bed-room, however, nothing had yet stirred beneath the weight of