DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.48088#0021
THE SISTINE MADONNA. 9
“May the Saints defend you!—but in comparison with her, you are like Francesca di Rimini.”
muttered Malatesta.
“Francesca!” repeated Aldruda turning pale. “Well, well, she had more love in her
heart than all Raphael’s other female portraits taken together... And she need never fear that
her lover may prove faithless.”
Meanwhile the Cardinal had continued his “business” journey, and had arrived at Trastevere.
Here he alighted, and conducted only by the Swiss corporal, he lost himself amongst the crowd
of the children of poverty. Ismeducci appeared to be very shortsighted; for he enquired from,
time to time: “Do you see no sign-board, good Rigi? look around for a tavern.”
“Your Eminence, here is an Inn!”
“Good, my son. Go in and ask for Father Petrajo.”
The Switzer let down his halberd, and entered the hut.
“Father Petrajo is not there,” reported the soldier.
“Is Falerner sold here, Rigi?”
“Monsignore, I do not know, no wine was offered to me.”
“Here is a piaster, Rigi, drink in the name of all the Saints, and enquire after Capo, the
Capo del popolo.”
The corporal was absent a long time. Ismeducci took out his breviary, and paced up and
down, reading. At last Rigi appeared with a crimson face.
“Father Capo is within, but he wishes first to empty his newly opened bottle.”
“Maladetto,” murmured the Cardinal, “I will give him five bottles, if he will leave this one
unfinished. Quick, Quick!”
A gigantic Franciscan appeared before the inn door, and looked at the Cardinal, as if he
would first discover, who could be the pitiless disturber of his entertainment. The Father had
the bearing of a soldier, his aspect was martial, and he appeared a man accustomed to com-
mand,—not to obey.
“My blessing upon you, Petrajo...,” said Ismeducci.
“Enough, enough, I thank you, but, Monsignore, I can assure you that you have disturbed
me in the midst of very important business. I am wearing myself out, in the endeavour to
persuade these stupid Trasteverenes, that the Holy Father does not intend to sweep away
Trastevere, to chase the inhabitants into the Campagna or the Maremme, and to build palaces
on the vineyards of poor Naboths, and in this work you, Monsignore, have disturbed me. The
clang of the drums of Trastevere will be heard soon enough in the Vatican, and then Capo will
have little power to help you.”
“Calm yourself, Petrajo—I will promise you a whole barrel of Lacrymae Christi, but I
require you, to accompany me at once to the Villa Frangipani.”
“There are three ‘Villa Frangipani,’ your Eminence.”
“I am going to see Raphael’s Fornarina, and you, Capo, must accompany me.”
“Optimo! that is a pleasant evening walk. The Fornerina lives in the Villa Frangipani
d’Astura on the Appian Way,” muttered the Franciscan. “But, Monsignore, I obey, and I hope
that my obedience will be appreciated.”
Petrajo was one of the veterans of the time of Julius IL, a monk, who, as brave as his
spiritual leader, had served in the campaign against the Lords of La Mark.
Father Petrajo was now the favourite of Leo, as he had been of Julius IL, and at the same
Art Treasures.
“May the Saints defend you!—but in comparison with her, you are like Francesca di Rimini.”
muttered Malatesta.
“Francesca!” repeated Aldruda turning pale. “Well, well, she had more love in her
heart than all Raphael’s other female portraits taken together... And she need never fear that
her lover may prove faithless.”
Meanwhile the Cardinal had continued his “business” journey, and had arrived at Trastevere.
Here he alighted, and conducted only by the Swiss corporal, he lost himself amongst the crowd
of the children of poverty. Ismeducci appeared to be very shortsighted; for he enquired from,
time to time: “Do you see no sign-board, good Rigi? look around for a tavern.”
“Your Eminence, here is an Inn!”
“Good, my son. Go in and ask for Father Petrajo.”
The Switzer let down his halberd, and entered the hut.
“Father Petrajo is not there,” reported the soldier.
“Is Falerner sold here, Rigi?”
“Monsignore, I do not know, no wine was offered to me.”
“Here is a piaster, Rigi, drink in the name of all the Saints, and enquire after Capo, the
Capo del popolo.”
The corporal was absent a long time. Ismeducci took out his breviary, and paced up and
down, reading. At last Rigi appeared with a crimson face.
“Father Capo is within, but he wishes first to empty his newly opened bottle.”
“Maladetto,” murmured the Cardinal, “I will give him five bottles, if he will leave this one
unfinished. Quick, Quick!”
A gigantic Franciscan appeared before the inn door, and looked at the Cardinal, as if he
would first discover, who could be the pitiless disturber of his entertainment. The Father had
the bearing of a soldier, his aspect was martial, and he appeared a man accustomed to com-
mand,—not to obey.
“My blessing upon you, Petrajo...,” said Ismeducci.
“Enough, enough, I thank you, but, Monsignore, I can assure you that you have disturbed
me in the midst of very important business. I am wearing myself out, in the endeavour to
persuade these stupid Trasteverenes, that the Holy Father does not intend to sweep away
Trastevere, to chase the inhabitants into the Campagna or the Maremme, and to build palaces
on the vineyards of poor Naboths, and in this work you, Monsignore, have disturbed me. The
clang of the drums of Trastevere will be heard soon enough in the Vatican, and then Capo will
have little power to help you.”
“Calm yourself, Petrajo—I will promise you a whole barrel of Lacrymae Christi, but I
require you, to accompany me at once to the Villa Frangipani.”
“There are three ‘Villa Frangipani,’ your Eminence.”
“I am going to see Raphael’s Fornarina, and you, Capo, must accompany me.”
“Optimo! that is a pleasant evening walk. The Fornerina lives in the Villa Frangipani
d’Astura on the Appian Way,” muttered the Franciscan. “But, Monsignore, I obey, and I hope
that my obedience will be appreciated.”
Petrajo was one of the veterans of the time of Julius IL, a monk, who, as brave as his
spiritual leader, had served in the campaign against the Lords of La Mark.
Father Petrajo was now the favourite of Leo, as he had been of Julius IL, and at the same
Art Treasures.