"Flown, no doubt," said the friar.
"No. See," said the Pope, and he brought up a little nest filled with a
ruin of fluff and feathers.
"Meesh has been here indeed," said the friar.
The venerable old men walked on in silence until they re-entered the
vaulted courtyards of the Vatican. Then the Pope turned to the Capuchin
and said in a breaking voice, "You'll go with the poor lady to the
Procura in the morning, Father Pifferi. If the magistrates ask questions
which they should not ask, you will protect her, and even forbid her to
reply, and if she breaks down at the last moment you will support and
comfort her. After that ... we must leave all to the Holy Spirit. God's
hand is in this thing ... it is in everything. He will bring out all
things well--well for us, well for the Church, well for the poor lady,
and even for her husband, whoever he may be."
"Whoever he may be," repeated the Capuchin.
XIX
Early in the morning of Holy Saturday, Roma was summoned as a witness
before the Penal Tribunal of Rome. The citation, which was signed by a
magistrate, required that she should present herself at the Procura at
ten o'clock the same day, "to depose about facts on which she would then
be interrogated," and she was warned that if she did not appear, "she
would incur the punishment sanctioned by Article 176 of the Code of
Penal Procedure."
Roma found Father Pifferi waiting for her at the door of the Procura.
The old Capuchin looked anxious. He glanced at her pale face and
quivering lips and inquired if she had slept. She answered that she was
well, and they turned to go upstairs.
On the landing of the first floor Commendatore Angelelli, who was
wearing a flower in his button-hole, approached them with smiles and
quick bows to lead them to the office of the magistrate.
"Only a form," said the Questore. "It will be nothing--nothing at all."
Commendatore Angelelli led the way into a silent room furnished in red,
with carpet, couch, armchairs, table, a stove, and two large portraits
of the King and Queen.
"Sit down, please. Make yourselves comfortable," said the Chief of
Police, and he passed into an adjoining room.
A moment afterwards he returned with two other men. One of them was an
elderly gentleman, who wore with his frockcoat a close-fitting velvet
cap decorated with two bands of gold lace. This was the Procurator
General, and the other, a younger man, carrying a portfolio, was his
private secretary. A marshal of Carabineers came to the door for a
moment.