Rossi shook his head.
"It is true that a crime will be the same to-morrow as to-day, but the
dead man was a tyrant, a ferocious tyrant, and if he forced you in
self-defence..."
Again Rossi shook his head, but still the Pope struggled on.
"You have your own life to think about, my son, and who knows but in
God's good service..."
"Let me go."
"You intend to give yourself up?"
"Yes."
The Pope could say no more. He rose to his feet. His saintly face was
full of a dumb yearning love and pride, which his tongue might never
tell. He thought of his years of dark searching, ending at length in
this meeting and farewell, and an impulse came to him to clasp the young
man to his swelling and throbbing breast. But after a moment, with
something of his old courageous calm of voice, he said: "I am not surprised at your decision, my son. It is worthy of your blood
and name. And now that we are parting for the last time, I could wish to
tell you something."
David Rossi did not speak.
"I knew your mother, my son."
"My mother?"
The Pope bowed and smiled.
"She was a great soul, too, and she suffered terribly. Such are the ways
of God."
Still Rossi did not speak. He was looking steadfastly into the Pope's
quivering face and making an effort to control himself.
The Pope's voice shook and his lip trembled.
"Naturally, you think ill of your father, knowing how much your mother
suffered. Isn't that so?"
Rossi put one hand to his forehead as if to steady his reeling brain,
and said, "Who am I to think ill of any one?"
The Pope smiled again, a timid smile.
"David...."
Rossi caught his breath.
"If, in the providence of God, you were to meet your father somewhere,
and he held out his hand to you, would you ... wherever you met and
whatever he might be ... would you shake hands with him?"
"Yes," said Rossi; "if I were a King on his throne, and he were the
lowest convict at the galleys."
The Pope fetched a long breath, took a step forward, and silently held
out his hand. At the next moment the young man and the old Pope were
hand to hand and eye to eye.
They tried to speak and could not.
"Farewell!" said the Pope in a choking voice, and turning away he
tottered out of the room.