The Pope was silent. A sudden change had come over his face. Roma's eyes

were held down, her voice was agitated, she was scarcely able to speak.

"My father was angry with the boy's father, I remember, and if at that

time he had known where to find him I think he would have denounced him

to the public or even the police."

The Pope's head sank on his breast; the Capuchin looked steadfastly at

Roma.

"But who knows if he was really to blame, your Holiness? He may have

been a good man after all--one of those who have to suffer all their

lives for the sins of others. Perhaps ... perhaps that very night he was

walking the streets of London, looking in vain among its waifs and

outcasts for the little lost boy who owned his own blood and bore his

name."

The Pope's face was white and quivering. His elbows rested on the arms

of his chair and his wrinkled hands were tightly clasped.

Roma stopped. There was a prolonged silence. The atmosphere of the room

seemed to be whirling round with frightful rapidity to one terrific

focus.

"Holy Father," said Roma at length, in a low tone, "if David Rossi were

your own son, would you still ask me to denounce him?"

The Pope lifted a face full of suffering and said in his deep, vibrating

voice, "Yes, yes! More than ever for that--a thousand times more than

ever."

"Then I will do it," said Roma.

The Pope rose up in great emotion, laid both hands on her shoulder, and

said, "Go in peace, my daughter, and may God grant you at least a little

repose."

XVIII After recitation of the Rosary, the Pope, who had kept his religious

retreat throughout the day, announced, to the astonishment of his

chamberlains, his desire to walk in the garden at night. With Father

Pifferi carrying a long Etruscan lamp he walked down the dark corridors

with their surprised palfrenieri, and across the open courtyards with

their startled sentinels, to where the arches of the Vatican opened upon

the soft spring sky.

The night was warm and quiet, and the moon, which had just risen and was

near the full, shone with steady brilliance.

The venerable old men walked without speaking, and only the beating of

their sticks on the gravel seemed to break the empty air. At length the

Pope stopped and said: "How strange it all was, Father Pifferi!"

"Very strange, your Holiness," said the Capuchin.

"Rossi is not his name, it seems."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024