"But I did it," the young prisoner had said again and again with
steadfast fervour, only deepening to alarm when evidence concerning the
revolver seemed to endanger the absent man.
There had been some conflicting medical evidence as to whether the death
could have been due to a pistol-shot, and certain astounding disclosures
of police corruption and prison tyranny. A judge of the Military
Tribunal had given startling proof of the Prime Minister's complicity in
an infamous case, ending with the suicide of the prisoner's man-servant
in open court, and an old Garibaldian among the people, packed away
beyond the barrier, had cried out: "He was just a black-dyed villain, and God Almighty save us from such
another."
This laying bare of the machinery of statecraft had made a great
sensation, and even the judge on the bench, being a just man, had
lowered his eyes before the accused at the bar. As the prisoner was
taken back to prison past the Castle of St. Angelo and the Military
College, the crowds had cheered her again and again, and sitting in an
open car with a Carabineer by her side, she had looked frightened at
finding herself a heroine where she had expected to be a malefactor.
"Poor child!" said the Pope. "But who knows the hidden designs of
Providence, whether manifest in the path of His justice or His mercy?"
Next day, when the Noble Guard returned to the Vatican, he could
scarcely speak to tell his story. The trial had ended and the prisoner
was condemned. Reluctantly the judge had sentenced her to life-long
imprisonment. She had preserved the same lofty demeanour to the last,
thanked her advocate, and even the judge and jury, and said they had
taken the only true view of her act. Her great violet eyes were
extraordinarily dilated and dark, and her face was transparent as
alabaster.
"You have done right to condemn me," she said, "but God, who sees all,
will weigh my conduct in the scale of His holy justice." The entire
court was in tears.
When the time came to remove the lady the crowd ran out to see the last
of her. There was a van and a company of Carabineers, but the emotion of
the people mastered them and they tried to rescue the prisoner. This was
near the Castle of St. Angelo, and the gates being open, the military
rushed her into the fortress for safety. She was there now.
The Pope sent his Noble Guard to the Castle of St. Angelo to inquire
after the prisoner, and the young soldier brought back a pitiful tale.
Donna Roma was ill and could not be removed at present. Her nervous
system was completely exhausted and nobody could say what might not
occur. Nevertheless, she was very brave, very sweet and very cheerful,
and everybody was in love with her. The Castle was occupied by a brigade
of Military Engineers, and the Major in command was a good Catholic and
a faithful son of the Holy Father. He had lodged his prisoner in the
bright apartments that used to be the Pope's, although the prison for
persons committed by the Penal Tribunals was a dark cell in the middle
of the Maschio. She had expressed a desire to be received into the
Church, and had asked the Major to send for Father Pifferi.