"Roma," said Rossi again, "since I must go away before our civil
marriage can be celebrated, is it not best that our spiritual one should
have the blessing of the Church?"
Roma looked at him and trembled.
"When I am gone God knows what may happen. The Baron may be a free man
any day, and he may put pressure on you to marry him. In that case it
will be strength and courage to you to know that in God's eyes you are
married already. It will be happiness and comfort to me, too, when I am
far away from you and alone."
"But it is impossible."
"Not so. A declaration before a parish priest is all that is necessary.
'Father, this is my wife.' 'This is my husband.' That is enough. It will
have no value in the eye of the law, but it will be a religious marriage
for all that."
"There is no time. You cannot wait...."
"Hush!" The clocks were striking three. "At three o'clock there is mass
at St. Andrea delle Frate. That is your parish church, Roma. The priest
and his acolytes are the only witnesses we require."
"If you think ... that is to say ... if it will make you happy, and be a
strength to me also...."
"Run for your cloak and hat, dearest--in ten minutes it will be done."
"But think again." She was breathing audibly. "Who knows what may happen
before you return? Will you never repent?"
"Never!"
"But ... but there is something ... something I ought to tell
you--something painful. It is about the past."
"The past is past. Let us think of the future."
"You do not wish to hear it."
"If it is painful to you--no!"
"Will nothing and nobody divide us?"
"Nothing and nobody in the world."
She gulped down another choking sob and threw both arms about his neck.
"Take me, then. I am your wife before God and man."
XIII
It was still dark overhead, and the streets with their thin covering of
snow were as silent as a catacomb. Through the door of the church, when
the leather covering was lifted, there came the yellow light of the
candles burning on the altar. The priest in his gold vestments stood
with his face to the glistening shrine, and his acolytes knelt beside
him. There was only one worshipper, an old woman who was kneeling before
a chair in the gloom of a side chapel. The tinkle of the acolytes' bell
and the faint murmur of the priest's voice were the only sounds that
broke the stillness.