The boy lay on the couch, just where Roma had first seen him, when David
Rossi was lifting him up asleep. He might have been asleep now, so
peaceful was his expression under the mysterious seal of death. The
blinds were drawn, and the sun came through them with a yellow light.
Four candles were burning on chairs at the head and two at the feet. The
little body was still dressed in the gay clothes of the festival, and
the cocked hat and gilt-headed mace lay beside it. But the chubby hands
were clasped over a tiny crucifix, and the hair of the shock head was
brushed smooth and flat.
"There he is," said Elena, in a cracked voice, and she went down on her
knees between the candles.
Roma, who could not speak, put the wreath of chrysanthemums on the brave
little breast, and knelt by the mother's side. At that they all broke
down together.
The old Garibaldian wiped his rheumy eyes and began to talk of David
Rossi. He was as fond of Joseph as if the boy had been his own son. But
what had become of the Honourable? Before daybreak the police had made a
domiciliary perquisition in the apartment, carried off his papers and
sealed up his rooms.
"Have no fear for him," said Roma, and then she asked about Bruno. All
they knew was that Bruno had been arrested and locked up in the prison
called Regina C[oe]li.
"Poor Bruno! He'll be dying to know what is happening here," said Elena.
"I'll see him," said Roma.
It was well she had come early. In the stupefaction of their sorrow the
three poor souls were like helpless children and had done nothing. Roma
sent the Garibaldian to the sanitary office for the doctor who was to
verify the death, to the office of health to register it, and to the
municipal office to arrange for the funeral. It was to be a funeral of
the third category, with a funeral car of two horses and a coach with
liveried coachmen. The grave was to be one of the little vaults, the
Fornelli, set apart for children. The priest was to be instructed to buy
many candles and order several Frati. The expense would be great, but
Roma undertook to bear it, and when she left the house the old people
kissed her hands again and loaded her with blessings.
II
The Roman prison with the extraordinary name, "The Queen of Heaven," is
a vast yellow building on the Trastevere side of the river. Behind it
rises the Janiculum, in front of it runs the Tiber, and on both sides of
it are narrow lanes cut off by high walls.