One by one the incidents of the history linked themselves with the
incidents of the day before, and the lonely old man of the
Vatican--childless, kinless, homeless for all his state, and cut off
from every human tie--began to think of things that were still farther
back than the conclave and the proclamation--things of the dead past
which nature had seemed to bury with so kind a hand, covering the grave
with grass and flowers.
A sweet young face, timid and trustful; a sudden shock such as makes the
world crumble beneath a man's feet; a vague sense of guilt and shame,
unreasonable, unmerited, unjustifiable, yet not to be put away; a blank
period of humiliation; the opening of eyes in a new world; the humblest
place in a religious house, the kitchen of the Noviciate. Then a great
yearning, a great restlessness; coming out of the convent;
dispensations; holy orders; works of charity; travels in foreign lands
and searchings day and night in the streets of a cruel city for some one
who had been lost and was never found.
The Pope put down the book and turned out the light. It was then that he
sang and prayed.
When Cortis came with the Pope's breakfast in the frayed edge of the
morning, the chamberlain outside the bedroom door whispered to the
valet, "The Holy Father has been with the angels all night long."
There was a Papal "Chapel" in St. Peter's that morning, with a
procession of white vestments in honour of the Mass of the Resurrection,
but the Pope did not attend. He sat alone in his simple chamber, with
curtains drawn across the marble columns to obscure the bed, fingering
the crucifix which hung from his neck, and waiting for the ringing of
the Easter bells.
The little door to the private corridor opened quietly, and Father
Pifferi entered the room.
"Well?" said the Pope.
"It is all over," said the Capuchin.
"Did the poor child ... did she bear up bravely?"
"Very bravely, your Holiness."
"No weakness, no hysteria? She did not faint or break down at the end?"
"On the contrary, she was composed--perfectly composed and quiet."
"Thank God!"
"It was most extraordinary. A woman denouncing her husband, and yet so
calm, so terribly calm."
"God helped her to bear her burden. God help all of us in our hour of
need!"
The Pope lifted the crucifix to his lips, and added, "And the man?"
"Rossi?"
"Yes."