Taking the letters from the pocket of his cassock, the Pope laid them on
the table.
"These are for you, my son," he said, and then he turned away.
Going down the narrow roofed-in passage to the Castle of St. Angelo,
with shafts of morning sunshine slanting through its lancet windows, and
the voices of children at play coming up from the street below, the Pope
told himself that he must be severe with Roma. The only thing
irremediable in all that had happened was the assassination, and though
that, in God's hands, had teen turned to the good of the people, yet it
raised a barrier between two unhappy souls that might never in this life
be passed.
"Poor child! Poor flower broken by the storms of fate! But I must
reprove her. Before I give her the Blessed Sacrament she must confess
and show a full contrition."
V
Roma was lying on a bed-chair in the frescoed room which had once been
the Pope's salon. She was wearing a white dress, and it made her
unruffled brow look like alabaster. Her large eyes, which were closed,
had blue rings on the lids, and her mouth, once so rosy and so gay with
laughter and light words, was colourless as marble.
A lay Sister, in a black and white habit, moved softly about the room.
It was Bruno's widow, Elena. She was the Sister Angelica who had entered
the convent of the Sacred Heart. It was there she had buried her own
trouble until, hearing of Roma's, she had begged to be allowed to nurse
her.
A door opened and an officer, in a mixed light and dark blue uniform,
entered. It was the doctor of the regiment.
"Sleeping, Sister?"
"Yes, sir."
"Poor soul! Let her sleep as long as she can."
But at that moment Roma opened her eyes, and held out her white hand.
"Is it you, doctor?" she said with a smile.
"And how is my patient this morning? Better, I think."
"Much better. In fact, I feel no pain at all to-day."
"She never does. She never feels anything if you believe her," said
Elena.
"Tired, Sister?"
"Why should I be tired, I wonder?"
"Sitting up all night with me. Your big burden is very troublesome,
doctor."
"Tut! You mustn't talk like that."
"If all jailors were as good to their prisoners as mine are to me!"
"And if all prisoners were as good to their jailors.... But I forbid
that subject. I absolutely forbid it.... Ah, here comes your breakfast."