While the secretary wrote his précis at one side of the table, the
Chief of Police prepared his mandato at the other side, repeating the
words to the Carabineer who stood behind his chair. "We ... considering
the conclusions of the Public Minister ... according to Article 187 of
the Code ... order the arrest of David Leone, commonly called David
Rossi ... imputed guilty of attempted regicide in the year ... and tried
and condemned in contumacy for the crime contemplated in Article.... And
to such effects we require the Corps of the Royal Carabineers to conduct
him before us to be interrogated on the facts above stated, and call on
all officials and agents of the public force to lend a strong hand for
the execution of the present warrant. Age, 34 years. Height, 1.79
metres. Forehead, lofty. Eyes, large and dark. Nose, Roman. Hair, black
with short curls. Beard and moustache, clean shaven. Corporatura,
distinguished."
When the secretary had finished his précis he read it aloud to Roma
and his superior.
"Good! Give the lady the pen. You will sign this paper, Donna Roma--and
that will do."
Roma and Father Pifferi had both risen. "Courage," the Capuchin tried to
say, but his quivering lips emitted no sound. Roma stood a moment with
the pen in her fingers, and her great eyes looked slowly round the room.
Then she stooped and wrote her name rapidly.
At the same moment the Procurator General signed the warrant, whereupon
the Chief of Police handed it to the Carabineer, saying, "Lose no
time--Chiasso," and the soldier went out hurriedly.
Roma held the pen a moment longer, and then it dropped out of her
fingers.
"Come," said the Capuchin, and they left the room.
There was a crowd on the embankment by the corner of the Ripetta bridge.
The body of a beggar had been brought out of the river, and it was lying
there for the formal inspection of the officials who report on cases of
sudden death. Roma stopped to look at the dead man. It was Old John. He
had committed suicide.
XX It was said at the Vatican that the Pope had not slept all night. The
attendant whose duty it was to lie awake while the Holy Father expected
to sleep said he heard him praying in the dark hours, and at one moment
he heard him singing a hymn.
To the Pope it had been a night of searching self-examination. Pictures
of his life had passed before him in swift review, pulsing and throbbing
out of the darkness like the light of a firefly, now come, now gone.