"Dearest," she wrote, "I have read in the newspapers what took
place on the frontier and I am overwhelmed with grief. What can I
say of my own share in it except that I did it for the best? From
my soul and before God, I tell you that if I betrayed you it was
only to save your life. And though my heart is breaking and I
shall never know another happy hour until God gives me release, if
I had to go through it all again I should have to do as I have
done....
"Perhaps your great heart will be able to forgive me some day, but
I shall never forgive myself or the man who compelled me to do
what I have done. Before this letter reaches you in Milan a great
act will be done in Rome. But you must know nothing more about it
until it is done.
"Good-bye, dearest. Try to forgive me as soon as you can. I shall
know it if you do ... where I am going to--eventually ... and it
will be so sweet and beautiful. Your loving, erring, broken-hearted
ROMA."
A noisy group of revellers were passing through the piazza singing a
drinking song. When they were gone a church clock struck eleven. Roma
put on a hat and a veil. Her impatience was now intense. Being ready to
go out she took a last look round the rooms. They brought a throng of
memories--of hopes and visions as well as realities and facts. The
piano, the phonograph, the bust, the bed. It was all over. She knew she
would never come back.
Her heart was throbbing violently, and she was opening the bureau a
second time when her ear caught the sound of a step on the stairs. She
knew the step. It was the Baron's.
She stopped, with an indescribable sense of terror, and gazed at the
door. It stood partly open as the Garibaldian had left it.
Through the door the Baron was about to enter. He was coming up, up,
up--to his death. Some supernatural power was sending him.
She grew dizzy and quaked in every limb. Still the step outside came on.
At length it reached the top, and there was a knock at the door. At
first she could not answer, and the knock was repeated.
Then the free use of her faculties came back to her. There was more of
the Almighty in all this than of her own design. It was to be. God
intended her to kill this guilty man.
"Come in!" she cried.