"In the Castle of St. Angelo," said the Pope.

A dark cloud crossed Rossi's beaming face and his mouth opened as if to

emit a startling cry.

"In ... in prison?"

The Pope bowed.

"What for?"

"The assassination of the Minister."

"Roma?... But what a fool I was not to think of it as a thing that might

happen! I left her with the dead man. Who was to believe her when she

denied that she had killed him?"

"She did not deny it. She avowed it."

"Avowed it? She said that she had...."

The Pope bowed again.

"Then ... then it was ... was it to shield me?"

"Yes."

Rossi's eyes grew moist. He was like another man.

"But the court ... surely no court will believe her."

"She has been tried and sentenced, my son."

"Sentenced? Do you say sentenced? For a crime she did not commit? And to

shield me? Holy Father, would you believe that the last words I spoke to

that woman ... but she is an angel. The authorities must be mad, though.

Did nobody think of me? Didn't it occur to any one that I had been there

that night?"

"There was only one piece of evidence connecting you with the scene of

the crime, my son. It was this."

The Pope drew from his breast the warrant he had taken from Roma.

"She had it?"

"Yes."

Rossi's emotions whirled within him in a kind of hurricane. The despair

which had clamoured so loud looked mean and contemptible in the presence

of the mighty passion which had put it to shame. But after a while his

swimming eyes began to shine, and he said: "Holy Father, this paper belongs to me and you must permit me to keep

it."

"What do you intend to do, my son?"

"There is only one thing to do now."

"What is that?"

"To save her."

There was no need to ask how. The Pope understood, and his breast

throbbed and swelled. But now that he had accomplished what he came for,

now that he had awakened the sleeping soul and given it hope and faith

and courage to face justice, and even death if need be, the Pope became

suddenly conscious of a feeling in his own heart which he struggled in

vain to suppress.

"Far be it from me to excuse a crime, my son, but the merciful God who

employs our poor passions to His own great purposes has used your acts

to great ends. The world is trembling on the verge of unknown events and

nobody knows what a day may bring forth. Let us wait a while."




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