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."