"The authorities already knew more than I could tell them," said the
Pope. "They knew where your husband was and what he was doing. They know
where he is now, and they are preparing to arrest him."
Roma's nerves grew more and more excited, the timid look gave place to a
look of defiance.
"They tell me that he is in Berlin at this moment. Is it true?"
Roma did not reply.
"They say their advices from official sources leave no doubt that he is
engaged in conspiracy."
Still Roma did not reply.
"They say confidently that the conspiracy points to rebellion, and is
intended to include regicide. Is it so?"
Roma bit her lip and remained silent.
"Can't you trust me, my child? Don't you know the Holy Father? Only give
me some hope that these statements are untrue, and the Holy Father is
ready to withstand all evil influences against you, and face the world
in your defence."
Roma felt as if something would snap within her brain. "I cannot say ...
I do not know," she faltered.
"But have you any uncertainty, my daughter? If you have the least reason
to believe that these statements are slanders of malicious imaginations,
tell me so, and I will give your husband the benefit of the doubt."
Roma rose to her feet, but she held on to the edge of the table that
stood by her side, rigid, quivering, frail and silent. The Pope looked
up at her with weary eyes, and continued in a caressing tone: "If unhappily you have no doubt that your husband is engaged in
dangerous enterprises, can you not dissuade him from them?"
"No," said Roma, struggling with her tears, "that is impossible. Whether
he is right or wrong, it is not for me to sit in judgment upon him.
Besides, long ago, before we were married, I promised that I would never
stand between him and his work, and I never can--never."
"But if he loves you, my child, would he not wish for your sake to avoid
the danger?"
"I can't ask him. I told him to go on without thinking of me, and I
would take care of myself whatever happened."
Her eyes were now shining with her tears. The Pope patted the hand on
the table.
"Can you not at least go to him and warn him, and thus leave him to
judge for himself, my daughter?"
"Yes ... no, that is impossible also."