At length came envoys with the news that peace was made;—made without consent, intervention, or stipulation of his! The messengers with decorously malicious hypocrisy, pretended to think that they were the bearers of acceptable tidings,—enlarged on the blessings thus secured to Italy, which must be so consolatory to the paternal heart of the father of the faithful, and congratulated him on the prospect of durable repose opened to the bleeding country. Every word was a rankling stab to the heart of the despairing but still implacable Pontiff. Willingly would he have clutched with those shaking hands, which he was compelled to raise in hypocritical benediction, the throats of these babblers of peace and reconciliation. But the blow was fatal to the sinking old man. Ferrara and its fair dukedom would never now belong to kith or kin of his. So Sixtus turned his face to the wall and died.[110] CHAPTER V. The Family is founded.—But finds it very difficult to stand on its Foundations.—Life in Rome during an Interregnum.—Magnificent Prince short of Cash.—Our Heroine's Claims to that Title.—A Night Ride to Forlì, and its Results.—An Accident to which splendid Princes are liable. Yet, to a certain extent, Sixtus had done his work and attained the desire of his heart. The "family" _was_ founded, though not with all the splendour and all the guarantees for durability which he so ardently wished. The poor Franciscan monk's long studious vigils in his lonely cell, unquenchable ambition, hard upward struggle, patient self-denial in the acquirement of the reputation that was to be his ladder, and audacious spurning of that ladder when the height was won, had obtained the desired reward. The name of Riario was written among those of the princes of Italy. And all those deep theological readings, so well and earnestly pursued as to have made this poor friar the "greatest theologian of the day," "profound casuist," confessor, doctor, general of all Franciscans, and finally, apostolically chosen head of all Christ's Church, never led him to doubt the adequacy of such reward in return for a soul smirched, and moral nature degraded! Well! we must not attempt to weigh in our nineteenth-century atmosphere the deeds done, and still less, the thoughts conceived in the grosser fifteenth-century air, or presume to judge even a pernicious Pope. But for his "theology," his science of God.... I think that there are some materials here for forming a judgment of that. [Sidenote: CATHERINE'S ENERGY.]