had ridden away to fresh conquests. He would go from triumph to triumph, and his triumphs would be hers.
There were times when she wept bitterly; and times when she was triumphant.
How could she have thought that she could stand alone? She was one of them; she was a Borgia, and that meant that she loved the members of her family with a passion which she could give to no other.
Yet she was afraid.
She passed through many emotions. She washed her hair and ordered that her beautiful dresses might be brought to her: but when she examined her face in the mirror she was shocked by what she saw. She thought she saw secrets in her eyes and they frightened her.
She wanted to be in Rome with her father. Cesare would return to Rome some day.
She thought of their family relationship as something infinitely tender, yet infinitely sinister. She longed to be bound so tightly by those family ties that she could not escape; and then she was conscious of a longing to escape.
There were times when she thought: I shall never be at peace again unless I escape. I want to be as other people. If only Alfonso had lived; if only we had gone away together, right away from Rome; if only we had lived happily, normally!
She would tremble when she contemplated the future. Cesare had come to her at Nepi; he had disturbed the mournful solitude, the sorrowing peace.
With a shock she would remember that he was not only her brother; he was the murderer of her husband.
Then she knew she must escape the web into which she was being more closely drawn. She felt like a fly who has been caught on those sticky threads, caught and bound, but not so securely that escape was impossible.
Less than a month after Cesare’s visit to Nepi she called her attendants to her and said: “I have my father’s permission to return to Rome. Let us make our preparations and leave as soon as we may. I am weary of Nepi. I feel I never wish to see this place again.”
When Lucrezia arrived in Rome, the Pope treated her as though her stay in Nepi had been merely a pleasant little holiday. He did not mention Alfonso, and was clearly delighted to have young Roderigo back.
Cesare’s army was achieving its objectives, and the Pope was in a benign mood.
He walked with Lucrezia in the Vatican gardens and discussed the topic which was nearest his heart at the moment.
“My dearest,” he said, “you cannot remain unmarried forever.”
“I have been unmarried a very short time,” said Lucrezia.
“Long enough … long enough. There is something which irks me from time to time, daughter. I cannot live forever, and I would wish to see you happily settled in a good marriage before I left you.”
“A good marriage one week may be an unsuitable one the next, and marriage would seem, from my experience, a very unstable state.”
“Ah, you are young and beautiful and you will have many suitors. Cesare tells me that Louis de Ligny would most willingly become your husband.”
“Father, I would not willingly become his wife … nor any man’s.”
“But, my child, he is a cousin of the King of France and a great favorite of the King’s. His future is rosy.”
“Dearest Father, would you have me leave you to live in France?”
The Pope paused, then said: “I confess that has occurred to me as the great disadvantage of this match. Also the man wants an enormous dowry and makes fantastic demands.”
“Then we’ll have none of him, Father. I’ll stay in peace with you awhile.”
He laughed with her and declared he would snap his fingers at Louis’ friend. He would never consent to giving his daughter to any who would take her miles away from her father.
But it was not long before he spoke to her of another offer. This time it was Francesco Orsini, the Duke of Gravina, who was very eager for the match and had most ostentatiously given up his favorite mistress that all the world should know how seriously he contemplated marriage.
“It is a pity he has given her up,” said Lucrezia. “It was so unnecessary.”
“He would be a good match, daughter. Like others he is greedy, of course, demanding offices in the Church, with good benefices to go with them, for his children by his previous marriage.”
“Let him ask, Father. What matters it? There is no need for you to listen to his demands, for I shall