The Pope had not finished when the words were struck out of his mouth by
an apparition which appeared at his bedroom door. It was that of a young
man, whose eyes were wild, whose nostrils were quivering, and whose
clothes hung about him in rags as if they had been torn in a recent
struggle. He had a look of despair and suffering, yet it was the same to
the Pope at that moment as if he were looking at his own features in a
glass.
The young man was surrounded by Swiss Guards, and the Maestro di Camera
pushed in ahead of him. Coming face to face with the Pope propped up in
his bed, the loud tones on which he was protesting died in his throat,
and he stood in silence on the threshold of the room.
The Pope was the first to speak.
"What is it you wish to say to me, my son?"
The young man seemed to recover his self-possession, but without a
genuflexion or even a bow of the head, and with a slightly defiant
manner, he said, "My name is David Leone. They call me Rossi, because
that was my mother's name, and they said I had no right to my father's.
I am a Roman, and I have been two months abroad. For ten years I have
worked for the people, and now I am denounced and betrayed to the
police. Three days ago I was arrested on returning to Italy, and
to-night by the help of friends I have escaped from the Carabineers. But
every gate is closed against me, and I cannot get out of Rome. This is
the Vatican, and the Vatican is sanctuary. Will you take me in?"
The Pope looked at the Swiss Guard, and said in a tremulous voice,
"Gentlemen, you will take this young man to your own quarters, and see
that no Carabineer lays hand on him without my knowledge and consent."
"Your Holiness!" protested the Cardinal Secretary, but the Pope raised
his hand and silenced him.
Rossi's defiant manner left him. "Wait," he said. "Before you decide to
take me in you must know more about me, and what I am charged with. I am
the Deputy Rossi who is said to have instigated the late riots. The
warrant for my arrest accuses me of treason and an attempt on the person
of the late King. It is false, but you must look at it for yourself.
Here it is."
So saying he plunged into his pocket for the paper, and then said, "It
is gone! I remember now--I flung it at the feet of my betrayer."