On May 8—the second day of the conclave—at Santa Marta, the cardinals have a continental breakfast between 6:30 and 7:30 a.m. Cardinal Timothy Dolan sits at a table with his jar of peanut butter that he brought from New York, and to his surprise Cardinal Robert Prevost comes and sits next to him.
“No doubt he was attracted by the peanut butter!” Cardinal Dolan joked later, in a lecture at Fairfield University in early September. He also revealed that prior to the conclave, cardinals kept asking him, “Who is Robert Prevost?” but he confessed that at that time he didn’t really know the man. Later, however, Cardinal Dolan will tell the New York Post that as they chatted he found Cardinal Prevost to be open and engaging. “We swapped some stories about my hometown of St. Louis, where he had lived during his novitiate with the Augustinian order,” Cardinal Dolan said. “I came away impressed.”
After breakfast the cardinals, again dressed in their scarlet robes, go to the Pauline Chapel where they concelebrate Mass. Cardinal Pietro Parolin presides and delivers the homily. They remain for a moment in silent prayer before heading to the Sistine Chapel, where they resume their assigned seats and recite Lauds, the church’s morning prayer.
Once the prayers are concluded, the second ballot begins, following exactly the same ritual as that of the previous evening. Three new tellers (who count the votes) and three new reviewers are randomly chosen by the junior cardinal deacons using wooden balls, and two ballots are given to each voter, as two votes are expected to be held this morning.
The third teller, who will read out the names, is Robert Francis Prevost!
“It’s God’s sense of humor,” one cardinal will comment later.
At around 9:30 a.m. each of the 133 cardinals writes the name of the person they have chosen to be pope on their ballot, folds it into the appropriate shape, and solemnly carries it to the altar.
Unlike the previous evening, when a livelier atmosphere reigned, not a fly can be heard buzzing in the Sistine Chapel now: Cardinal Parolin has expressly requested that silence be maintained during the voting.
Once the votes are cast, the tellers then mix the ballot sheets and count the votes to verify that the number of votes corresponds to the number of electors present.
They then proceed with the opening of the ballot sheets. Each teller performs his task and the third one, Cardinal Prevost, reads the names aloud for all to hear. He must read his own name repeatedly.
Since no cardinal has obtained a two‑thirds majority, the electors immediately proceed to the third ballot. The atmosphere is tense.
Once the third ballot is complete, the votes are counted. Following the same ritual, the same three tellers verify that the ballots cast match the number of electors and read the names on the ballots, and Cardinal Prevost again “sings” the names of those who have received votes loudly and clearly. The Chicago‑born cardinal now has to read his own name more frequently. He is doing it well, but one wonders: What must he be feeling?
After the count, no cardinal has obtained the 89 votes necessary to be elected. But it is clear that Cardinal Prevost has gained momentum. The ballots from the two rounds of voting are gathered and taken to the stove at the back of the Sistine Chapel for burning. The appropriate chemicals are activated in the second furnace to produce a very dark smoke signal.
An American Pope?
Outside, the clock strikes 11 a.m., and once again thousands of Romans and pilgrims gather in St. Peter’s Square and along the Via della Conciliazione awaiting the smoke. At 11:51, black smoke rises. “Ohhhhhhhh!” is the reaction of the 15,000 people present, who take videos and photos of this extraordinary scene, which, in broad daylight, looks much better than the night before. It is fascinating, as some tourists comment, because in the advanced technological age of the 21st century, the Vatican continues to send news by means of smoke signals!
My wife, Elisabetta Piqué, Vatican correspondent for the Argentine newspaper La Nación, provides a minute-by-minute report from the press room. Betta conducts an interview with Cardinal Seán O’Malley, who not only grants her request but also speaks some words that will prove prophetic. When Betta asks him the meaning of the two black smokes—last night and this afternoon—and whether they reflect a “division,” Cardinal O’Malley downplays the situation. “Partly it’s due to the fact that there are several candidates who could be considered. On the other hand, the vast majority of the cardinals are newcomers; it’s their first time participating in a conclave, and many don’t speak Italian,” he tells her.
Asked if an American pope is possible, Cardinal O’Malley, who was a papabile last time, assures her that this time the taboo could be broken. “I think anything is possible. The fact that we’ve already had popes from Poland, Germany and Argentina makes anything possible. A pope from the United States can’t be ruled out. It’s true that in today’s world it’s more difficult for an American to be elected, but not impossible.”
Which kind of pope is your dream? Betta asks. “We all dream of a pope who is perfect and who can meet all the needs of the church, but that person doesn’t exist. I hope the Holy Spirit chooses the best possible person and everyone is willing to help him. Everyone realizes the importance of the papacy, and this was made clear by the international response we saw to the death of Pope Francis. The funeral demonstrated the importance of the Petrine Ministry, which goes beyond the church in a world where leadership is lacking and there is so much polarization. The prophetic voice of the Holy Father is fundamental because it can bring to the whole world the Gospel message of help for the least, of peace, of justice, and it is a service to humanity. And above all, Pope Francis, with his personality and desire for closeness, had an enormous impact outside the church. I think the cardinals want that to continue with the next pope.” Betta immediately writes up the interview for La Nación.
A True Discernment
Inside that otherworldly capsule that is the conclave, meanwhile, the 133 cardinal electors, after leaving the Sistine Chapel, return to their apartments in Santa Marta. They remove their ceremonial robes and go down to the dining room for lunch. There, the air is filled with great anticipation. Everyone knows that, barring some unexpected event, the end of the conclave is near. The waiters serving the tables notice that the atmosphere has changed: If the previous evening had been tense, this afternoon it is almost cheerful, and the electors seem more relaxed. The menu is also good: Italian pasta and steak with salad.
While they eat, many look around to see if Cardinal Prevost, having endured the stress of having to read out his name so many times at the end of the second and third ballots, will appear for lunch. Although some media outlets will say that he stayed in his room writing his introductory speech, he does come down for lunch and becomes the center of attention for many of his colleagues. “It was already clear then that we could complete [our mission] by the end of the day. How many more votes it would take, I didn’t know. But it was very clear that we were moving in a direction that was probably unstoppable,” Cardinal Blase Cupich of Chicago would later say.
Cardinal Stephen Chow would tell us: “When you look at the results of the first ballot, you can see which candidates carry the most weight,” and then, when the cardinals vote on the second and third ballots, “there is more clarity; individually, there is more clarity.”
“It’s truly discernment,” he added, highlighting the spiritual perspective. “Discernment consists of going in with some data, contemplating it, praying about it, and following the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit moves your heart, and you can choose to respond or not. You can choose to focus on your own preference. Or you listen. And then you see people gradually come to an agreement. It’s truly the Holy Spirit, if you listen, who unites us. Our hearts were moved by the Holy Spirit, and we responded.”
After lunch, with everyone sensing that these will be the last hours of their confinement, the cardinals retire to their rooms. Some to rest—even to take a nap—and others to read or pray. Cardinal Prevost also retires to his room. But this former mathematics graduate from Villanova University, aware that he could in all likelihood be elected in the afternoon session, decides to jot down what he might say from the loggia of the Vatican Basilica, the central balcony of St. Peter’s, that same day. Unlike then-Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio, who felt comfortable speaking spontaneously and did not prepare a text for the 2013 conclave, Cardinal Prevost—who is of a different age, a different style, a different personality—prefers not to improvise and likes to have a prepared text.
The cardinals gather again in the Pauline Chapel and head for the Sistine Chapel at 4:45 p.m., aware that they will cross the Atlantic for the second time in this first quarter of the 21st century to elect the next pope.
When they take their preassigned seats in the Sistine Chapel, under the presidency of Cardinal Parolin, they follow the well‑known and well‑oiled procedure established by the apostolic constitution. This time, three new tellers are chosen at random. They are Cardinals Timothy Radcliffe, Reinhard Marx and Fernando Filoni, who will read out the names. Two ballot sheets are again given to each cardinal elector. Each one writes the name of his chosen candidate, folds the paper, takes it to the altar and casts his vote.
Incredibly, the same thing happens today as in the fifth ballot of the 2013 conclave. When the tellers count the ballots, something doesn’t add up: there should be 133 ballots, but instead there are 134! The third teller, Cardinal Filoni, verifies this and informs the other cardinals of the error. Cardinal Parolin then, following the constitution, declares the count void without reading any of the names on the ballot sheets, which will be burned unopened at the end of the afternoon vote.
As happened in 2013, two ballots were stuck together.
This time we know the “culprit”: Spanish Cardinal Carlos Osoro Sierra, archbishop emeritus of Madrid—who would turn 80 just eight days later—publicly admits that he made a mistake by accidentally placing one of his ballots on top of the other. Deeply embarrassed, he apologizes to the other cardinals and asks for two new ballots.
In an atmosphere of great expectation, the cardinals repeat the fourth round of voting. They write the name of their chosen candidate on the ballot, fold it and take it to the altar where they place it, following the same pre‑established ritual.
“At the time of the final vote, everyone knew what was coming. You approached with your ballot in hand, placed it on the paten, then slid it into the urn. People were radiant with joy. Even those who had been planning to vote for others smiled, moved by the clarity of what was emerging. It was a profound spiritual gift for all of us,” Cardinal Robert McElroy will recount.
“[Cardinal Luis Antonio] Tagle sat next to Prevost while the votes were being counted, supporting and encouraging him,” recalled Cardinal Chow, who sat opposite the future pope. Cardinal Tagle offered him a Halls candy as the situation was becoming tense, other firsthand witnesses of the moment noted. Cardinal Louis Raphaël Sako, patriarch of the Chaldeans and the first Iraqi to vote in a conclave, sat on the other side of Cardinal Prevost, also encouraging him.
“I was amazed at how much he seemed at peace, even as the votes were being counted,” an elector told me.
“Each cardinal had a notebook with all the names, to keep track, which we had to hand over at the end, but throughout the process, we all knew when the threshold was approaching. It wasn’t a surprise. We applauded when the 89th vote was confirmed, but the reality had already been building before then,” Cardinal McElroy explained.
The applause lasted about five minutes, according to several sources, and then Cardinal Parolin intervened to remind them that the tellers had not finished counting the votes. In fact, the cardinals would hear Cardinal Filoni read Cardinal Prevost’s name aloud many more times. When the tellers finished counting and the third teller announced that Cardinal Prevost had received 108 votes, applause erupted again.
The Acceptance
The apostolic constitution clearly lays down the steps to be taken once the conclave reaches this stage. All are scrupulously followed.
First, the junior cardinal deacon, George Jacob Koovakad, summons the secretary of the College of Cardinals, Archbishop Ilson de Jesus Montanari, and the master of papal liturgical celebrations, Archbishop Diego Ravelli, as well as two other masters of ceremonies, to the Sistine Chapel. Then comes the time to ask Cardinal Prevost if he accepts his election.
In the apostolic constitution, Pope John Paul II says the following: “I also ask whoever is elected not to renounce the ministry to which he is called for fear of its burden, but to humbly submit to the plan of the divine will. Indeed, God, in imposing this burden upon him, will hold him with his hand so that he may carry it; in conferring upon him such a burdensome task, he will also give him the help to carry it out, and, in giving him the dignity, he will grant him the strength not to be overwhelmed by the weight of his office.”
Cardinal Parolin, who presides over the conclave, is responsible for asking in Latin—with Cardinal Prevost standing before him—on behalf of the entire College of Electors: “Do you accept the canonical election as supreme pontiff?”
“I accept!” Cardinal Prevost replies in Latin.
Cardinal Ángel Rossi of Argentina will later disclose: “From where I was sitting, I could see his face, which was a gentle face. And when he was asked [if he accepted], he was smiling, but not as if saying ‘I won,’ but with a confirmation of peace in his heart.”
The apostolic constitution establishes that “after his acceptance, the elected person, if he has already received episcopal consecration, is immediately Bishop of the Church of Rome, true Pope and Head of the College of Bishops. He thus acquires and can exercise full and supreme power over the universal church.” It further declares that “the conclave ends immediately after the new Supreme Pontiff assents to his election, unless he determines otherwise.”
As soon as Cardinal Prevost gives his assent, Cardinal Parolin asks him a second question: “How do you wish to be called?”
The new pope replies: “Leone.”
The cardinals look at each other, surprised by this decision linked to Pope Leo XIII, the pope famous for the first “social” encyclical, “Rerum Novarum.”
“I very much appreciate the name and the obvious reference to ‘Rerum Novarum’,” Cardinal Michael Czerny tells us later in an interview. “I don’t know if there is an issue of greater and more inclusive concern for the vast majority of people on the planet than work, which is so threatened not only by artificial intelligence and the market model that Francis criticized so much, but also by climate change, by war and violence, and by human rights violations. You could say that work is the central issue today. I am very grateful that he has quietly stated that our church will accompany the people of God, all the people, in this fundamental concern that everyone have a good job.”
After the acceptance and choice of name, the master of ceremonies, Archbishop Ravelli, following the ritual and “acting as a notary and having two masters of ceremonies as witnesses,” drafts “a document certifying the acceptance of the new pope and the name he has taken.”
After accepting the election and declaring his new name, Pope Leo XIV leaves the Sistine Chapel and heads to the so‑called Room of Tears, the small dressing room located at the top left of the Sistine Chapel, where the new pope removes his cardinal’s robes and puts on the white cassock that popes began wearing in the 13th century. This place is called the Room of Tears because of the strong emotions felt by the newly elected pope. Leo enters with Archbishop Ravelli, who closes the door.
In the room there are three sets of papal robes in three different sizes (small, medium and large), consisting of a white woolen vestment, a short red ermine cape called a mozzetta and some accessories: a gold cord for the cross, a white belt with gold tassels that will later bear the new pope’s coat of arms and red leather shoes.
The curious thing is that, because of the “spending review” initiated by Francis in the Vatican to eliminate unnecessary expenses, only one new set of robes has been created: the medium‑sized one. The other two, the small and the large, have been recycled! They are the same ones from the 2013 election (when the Argentine pope was elected after Benedict XVI’s resignation) and were not used at the time by then-Cardinal Bergoglio. With great reserve, the Italian ecclesiastical tailor, Ety Cicioni, in his Borgo Pio laboratory has made only size M. He has aired out and ironed sizes S and L, something that is necessary after they’ve been wrapped in cellophane for 12 years.
Probably unaware that these are “low‑cost habits,” as the newspaper Il Messaggero defined them, Leo opts for size M.
Unlike Francis, he decides to follow tradition by wearing the mozzetta. But, like Francis, he chooses to continue wearing his own black shoes, not the red ones that had been specially made. When he finishes changing, he returns to the Sistine Chapel and is again greeted by the cardinals with warm applause.
While Leo changes, the scrutineers collect the ballots from both rounds of voting (including those that had been spoiled because two were stuck together), take them to the stove at the back of the chapel to be burned, and add the appropriate chemical into the second stove to make the smoke white.
The Reaction
At that moment, Via della Conciliazione is packed with people, and St. Peter’s Square is jammed. Betta and I had covered the conclaves in 2005 and 2013; we knew that atmosphere of excitement, but we have never seen such a large crowd at this time on the second day.
After lunch, I head back up to the rooftop terrace of the Augustinian House to join the team from the Canadian television network CTV. Drones and helicopters hover in the sunny blue sky, also waiting in anticipation.
Betta and a colleague are just leaving the press room to try to get something to eat, figuring, like everyone else, that since no fumata has been released, the votes in the fourth ballot have not yet been collected, and there is still time for a coffee.
They haven’t had lunch, and at the bar on Via della Conciliazione, a block from the Sala Stampa, people are waiting in line. Crossing to the other side of the street is impossible, so they try Via dei Corridori, which has been fenced off because of the crush of people who keep arriving. At that moment, another “Ohhhhhh!” is heard, but it’s a false alarm: On the giant screens on Via della Concilizione, the “star” seagull, the one that hovers around the chimney of the Sistine Chapel, suddenly appears with her little chick, her gray‑feathered baby, which she is feeding through her beak. “Ohhhhhhh,” exclaims the crowd, celebrating this tender scene.
Two minutes later, at 6:07 p.m., there’s not an “Ohhhhhhh!” but something much louder, like a scream: “Yes!” It’s white smoke!
“Abbiamo il papa!” (“We have a pope!”), everyone exults, and they start filming the white smoke that begins to rise in the distance, first timidly, then forcefully, from the most closely watched chimney in the world. Some people dance with joy, others hug, take selfies and start running to get closer to the basilica, a scene Betta captures and posts on X.
A minute later, as if to make it clear that yes, it’s true, there is a new pope, the six bells of St. Peter’s Basilica begin to ring in celebration. The atmosphere is euphoric.
The First Glimpse
The news immediately hits social media and television screens across the world. Vatican officials from the Secretariat of State, upon hearing the news, like the Romans who begin to head toward the Vatican, run to see the smoke. Everyone is convinced that such a rapid result—only four rounds of votes—can mean only one thing: Cardinal Parolin has been elected pope. Almost everyone in the press room thinks exactly the same. “It’s Parolin, for sure, it’s Parolin,” people say. And Vatican media leaders share that opinion: Their support for Cardinal Parolin is no secret. We’re even told that there’s an edition of L’Osservatore Romano, the Vatican newspaper, ready to roll off the press.
When the white smoke clears, things immediately begin to change in the area in front of St. Peter’s Basilica: Various members of the Italian armed forces—the army, the air force and the navy—arrive, as if on a military parade, with their bands. So too do the Vatican Gendarmerie and the Swiss Guard, all ready to stand at attention to salute the new pope with all due honors. At 7:14 p.m., an hour and a few minutes after the white smoke erupted, following a tradition dating back to 1484, the senior cardinal deacon of the College of Cardinals, the 73‑year‑old French cardinal of Moroccan origin, Dominique Mamberti, appears on the central balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica to announce the name of the new pope to the world.
The windows open, the large burgundy curtains open, and now the atmosphere is beyond electric. Cardinal Mamberti steps forward and stands there for a moment while the crowd festively roars. He remains silent until the noise subsides, and then he makes the famous announcement in Latin: “Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum: Habemus papam!” (“I announce to you great joy: We have a pope!”). The human tide erupts into another mighty roar. Cardinal Mamberti has to wait. Then, breaking the suspense, he pronounces, in Latin: “Eminentissimum ac reverendissimum Dominum, Dominum Robertum Franciscum, Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem Prevost.”
Another impressive ovation then erupts, which is, in truth, a bit subdued, followed by much perplexity: Few know who he is! Betta begins explaining to everyone around her in the square—very many of whom are speechless, surprised, almost disappointed—that the new pope is American, but also Peruvian, and that he is in line with Francis.
Cardinal Mamberti then announces the name the new pope has chosen: Leo XIV. The crowd erupts in thunderous excitement at the name, chanting the resonant “Leooooo‑ne” in the full‑throated style of enraptured Italian soccer fans.
Shortly after this, the first American‑born pope, Leo XIV, steps onto the balcony. Although few know him, the euphoria is immense, and he is greeted with applause and cheers. Overwhelmed by emotion, he remains silent for a few minutes, bowing, surrounded by a few cardinal electors, including Cardinal Parolin, who wears a forced smile. This is logical. Cardinal Prevost’s election represents a severe blow to that lobby of Italian cardinals who dreamed of reconquering the papacy and stemming the tide of novelty brought about by Francis. The conclave dared to break the taboo that there could be no pontiff from the United States, one of the world’s superpowers. With that audacity that Francis always lauded, it has chosen Cardinal Prevost, the first American pope, but with a Latin American and—especially—Peruvian heart, as he himself will make clear when he presents himself to the world and speaks not just in Italian, but at the end also in Spanish, though not in English.
Amid a jubilant St. Peter’s Square packed with people waving the flags of various countries and holding cellphones to record the moment, the new pope not only immediately says, “Thank you” to Francis—a phrase that triggers another round of heartfelt applause—but also makes it clear that he will follow in his footsteps in favor of a church that is open to all: synodal, missionary and working for peace. He also makes clear that he will do so in his own style, without being a carbon copy of Francis. In fact, everyone instantly notices that he has decided to wear the red mozzetta over his white cassock that his predecessor, Jorge Bergoglio, had intentionally eschewed.
“Peace be with you all” are his first words in a soaring voice, which once again sends St. Peter’s Square into a jubilation. “Dear sisters and brothers, this is the first greeting of the risen Christ, the good shepherd who gave his life for God’s flock,” he introduces himself, speaking fluently in Italian, with a bit of a South American accent that is anything but North American.
“I also hope that this greeting of peace enters your hearts, reaches your families, all people, wherever they may be, all nations, and the whole earth.” Then he adds, “Peace be with you. This is the peace of the risen Christ, an unarmed peace and a disarming peace, humble and persevering,” using the same words Jesus used after Easter.
“[This peace] comes from God, God who loves us all unconditionally,” he says, recalling words often repeated by his Argentine predecessor, whom he immediately mentions. “We still hear in our ears that weak but always courageous voice of Pope Francis blessing Rome!” he exclaims, alluding to the superhuman effort his predecessor made on his last outing, on Sunday, April 20, Easter Sunday, the day before his death.
“The pope who blessed Rome gave his blessing to the world, to the whole world, that Easter morning. Let me continue that same blessing: God loves us, God loves you all, and evil will not prevail,” he asserts, offering the same message of hope as Francis. “We are all in God’s hands. Therefore, without fear, united hand in hand with God and with one another, we move forward. We are disciples of Christ with God, and we move forward with one another. Christ precedes us. The world needs his light. Humanity needs him as a bridge to be reached by God and by his love,” he affirms, appearing very spiritual yet concrete.
“Help us too, together, to build bridges, through dialogue, through encounter, uniting all of us to be one people always at peace,” he asks, reflecting, once again, another point in common with his predecessor, who tirelessly called for a culture of dialogue and encounter and said to build bridges, not walls.
“Thank you, Pope Francis!” he reiterates, also thanking all “the brother cardinals who have chosen me to be the successor of Peter and to walk alongside you, as a united church, always seeking peace, justice, always seeking to work as men and women faithful to Jesus Christ, without fear, to proclaim the Gospel, to be missionaries,” reading from the text he prepared after lunch.
In a square where few know who he is, the pope also makes it known that he is an Augustinian, “a son of Saint Augustine,” who said, he recalls: “with you I am a Christian and for you a bishop.” The new pope then adds that “In this sense, we can all walk together toward that homeland that God has prepared for us.”
As the new bishop of Rome, the former Cardinal Prevost then expressly greets the church of the Eternal City. “We must seek together to be a missionary church, a church that builds bridges, dialogue, always open to welcome like this square with open arms,” he declares. “All, all those who need our charity, our presence, dialogue and love,” he adds, visibly moved.
Immediately after this, the new pope, who has a Peruvian passport and was not only a missionary there for 20 years but also a bishop, shifts to speaking in Spanish, his second language.
“And if you allow me, a word, a greeting to all those, and in particular to my beloved diocese of Chiclayo, in Peru, where a faithful people have accompanied their bishop, shared their faith and given so much, so much to continue being the faithful Church of Jesus Christ,” he says, captivating the thousands of Latin Americans present, including many Argentines with flags.
“To all of you, brothers and sisters of Rome, of Italy, and throughout the world, we want to be a synodal church, a church that journeys, a church that always seeks peace, that always seeks charity, that always seeks to be close, especially to those who suffer,” he continues, leaving no doubt that his election was the great gamble of those cardinals who were looking for someone to follow in the footsteps of Francis.
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This article is adapted with permission from The Election of Pope Leo XIV: The Last Surprise of Pope Francis (Orbis Books, March) by Gerard O’Connell and Elisabetta Piqué.
This article appears in March 2026.
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