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Although it is my profound desire to request your discretion in the matters of the past 24 hours, I cannot possibly presume to ask more of you than you have already given. I therefore humbly retreat hoping only that you let your hearts guide you in this matter. The world seems a better place today… maybe the questions are more powerful than the answers.

My door is always open,

Langdon read the message twice. The College of Cardinals had obviously chosen a noble and munificent leader.

Before Langdon could say anything, Chartrand produced a small package. "A token of thanks from His Holiness."

Langdon took the package. It was heavy, wrapped in brown paper.

"By his decree," Chartrand said, "this artifact is on indefinite loan to you from the sacred Papal Vault. His Holiness asks only that in your last will and testament you ensure it finds its way home."

Langdon opened the package and was struck speechless. It was the brand. The Illuminati Diamond.

Chartrand smiled. "May peace be with you." He turned to go.

"Thank… you," Langdon managed, his hands trembling around the precious gift.

The guard hesitated in the hall. "Mr. Langdon, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"My fellow guards and I are curious. Those last few minutes… what happened up there in the helicopter?"

Langdon felt a rush of anxiety. He knew this moment was coming—the moment of truth. He and Vittoria had talked about it last night as they stole away from St. Peter’s Square. And they had made their decision. Even before the Pope’s note.

Vittoria’s father had dreamed his antimatter discovery would bring about a spiritual awakening. Last night’s events were no doubt not what he had intended, but the undeniable fact remained… at this moment, around the world, people were considering God in ways they never had before. How long the magic would last, Langdon and Vittoria had no idea, but they knew they could never shatter the wonderment with scandal and doubt. The Lord works in strange ways, Langdon told himself, wondering wryly if maybe… just maybe… yesterday had been God’s will after all.

"Mr. Langdon?" Chartrand repeated. "I was asking about the helicopter?"

Langdon gave a sad smile. "Yes, I know…" He felt the words flow not from his mind but from his heart. "Perhaps it was the shock of the fall… but my memory… it seems… it’s all a blur…"

Chartrand slumped. "You remember nothing?"

Langdon sighed. "I fear it will remain a mystery forever."

When Robert Langdon returned to the bedroom, the vision awaiting him stopped him in his tracks. Vittoria stood on the balcony, her back to the railing, her eyes gazing deeply at him. She looked like a heavenly apparition… a radiant silhouette with the moon behind her. She could have been a Roman goddess, enshrouded in her white terrycloth robe, the drawstring cinched tight, accentuating her slender curves. Behind her, a pale mist hung like a halo over Bernini’s Triton Fountain.

Langdon felt wildly drawn to her… more than to any woman in his life. Quietly, he lay the Illuminati Diamond and the Pope’s letter on his bedside table. There would be time to explain all of that later. He went to her on the balcony.

Vittoria looked happy to see him. "You’re awake," she said, in a coy whisper. "Finally."

Langdon smiled. "Long day."

She ran a hand through her luxuriant hair, the neck of her robe falling open slightly. "And now… I suppose you want your reward."

The comment took Langdon off guard. "I’m… sorry?"

"We’re adults, Robert. You can admit it. You feel a longing. I see it in your eyes. A deep, carnal hunger." She smiled. "I feel it too. And that craving is about to be satisfied."

"It is?" He felt emboldened and took a step toward her.

"Completely." She held up a room-service menu. "I ordered everything they’ve got."

The feast was sumptuous. They dined together by moonlight… sitting on their balcony… savoring frisée, truffles, and risotto. They sipped Dolcetto wine and talked late into the night.

Langdon did not need to be a symbologist to read the signs Vittoria was sending him. During dessert of boysenberry cream with savoiardi and steaming Romcaffé, Vittoria pressed her bare legs against his beneath the table and fixed him with a sultry stare. She seemed to be willing him to set down his fork and carry her off in his arms.