‘You are Jacopo Luigi,’ he observed, glancing towards a letter which lay open on a pier-table. ‘My nephew, Count Baldachino, recommends you to me very strongly. He says’--the Cardinal interrupted himself to scrutinise a fresh gem with the minutest care--‘he says that you are thoroughly discreet and faithful. You understand the particular necessity for discretion in my service, no doubt?’ He took his eye off the cameo for an instant, to dart a glance at me, so keen and penetrating that it was as if a hidden man had suddenly sprung to the window and looked out. Before I could respond, the Cardinal’s back was turned to me again, and he was dusting away harder than ever. ‘I perfectly understand, Eminence,’ I muttered. ‘That is quite right, then. I take you into my service. At a salary of 800 lire. Introduce yourself to the master of my household.’ These sentences were punctuated by eager movements, as his Eminence proceeded in his examination of the newly arrived treasures. I waited for more, but finding that the Cardinal had apparently forgotten my presence, in his antiquarian enthusiasm, I moved towards the door and withdrew. I need not describe the household. I found myself received at first with the jealousy natural on the part of old servants towards a new comer, but I soon got on good terms with those whom I wished to conciliate. From the gossip of the servants’ hall I gathered many important hints about the forthcoming election. Had merit only been considered, the long and important services of Cardinal Rampolla would have given him a paramount claim on the tiara. But his strength of character had aroused the dread of those Cardinals who consider that a weak Pope means a powerful College, and _vice versâ_. Various other names were being talked about as popular candidates, but among them I did not once catch that of King Victor’s nominee, the saintly, simple-hearted Archbishop of Venice. Each of the two great Mendicant Orders, the Dominicans and Franciscans, had its favourite, for whom the brethren were eagerly working. But I could not learn the name of any Cardinal who was being supported by the ubiquitous and powerful Company of Jesus. This was in itself a suspicious sign. The jealousy--perhaps I ought to say the fear--of the Jesuits entertained by the ordinary hierarchy of the Church is so intense that in all probability if the Jesuits had shown their hand by openly supporting a particular Cardinal, that would have been enough to ensure his exclusion. I could only surmise that they were working in the dark, or, perhaps, waiting for the opportunity to intervene and turn the scale between the final candidates. As soon as the obsequies of Leo XIII. had been duly performed, the Cardinals in solemn procession entered the Hall of the Conclave, and the doors were locked. Inside the vast chamber a small wooden cell, just large enough to contain a narrow bed and a chair, had been erected for the accommodation of each Cardinal.