"As you approach," he said in a low tone, "you will make three
genuflexions--one at the door, another midway across the floor, the
third at the Holy Father's feet. You feel well?"
"Yes," she faltered.
The door was opened, the Monsignor stepped one pace into the room, and
then knelt and said-"Donna Roma Volonna, your Holiness."
Roma was on her knees at the threshold; a soft, full, kindly voice,
which she could have believed she had heard before, called on her to
approach; she rose and stepped forward, the Monsignor stepped back, and
the door behind her was closed.
She was in the Presence.
III The Pope, dressed wholly in white, was seated in a simple chair by a
little table in a homely room, surrounded by bookcases and some busts of
former pontiffs. There were little domesticities of intimate life about
him, an empty soup-dish, a cruet-stand, a plate and a spoon. He had a
face of great sweetness and spirituality, and as Roma approached he bent
his head and smiled a fatherly smile. She knelt and kissed his ring, and
continued to kneel by his chair, putting one hand on the arm. He placed
his own mittened hand over hers and patted it tenderly, while he looked
into her face.
The little nervous perturbation with which Roma had entered the room
began to leave her, and in the awful wearer of the threefold crown she
saw nothing but a simple, loving human being. A feminine sense crept
over her, a sense of nursing, almost of motherhood, and at that first
moment she felt as if she wanted to do something for the gentle old man.
Then he began to speak. His voice had that tone which comes to the voice
of a man who has the sense of sex strong in him, when a woman is with
him and his accents soften perceptibly.
"My daughter," he said, "Father Pifferi has spoken about you, and by
your permission, as I understand it, he has repeated the story you told
him. You have suffered, and you have my sympathy. And though you are not
among the number of my children, I sent for you, that, as an old man to
a young woman, by God's grace I might strengthen you and support you."
She kissed his ring again and continued to kneel by the arm of his
chair.
"Long ago, my child, I knew one who was in something like the same
position, and perhaps it is the memory of what befell that poor soul
which impels me to speak to you.... But she is dead, her story is dead
too; let time and nature cover them."