's watching us, and waiting for us to go. How snugly
she thought she kept her secret."

The Capuchin drew a long breath. "Yes, nature has the same cry for fear
in all her offspring."

"True," said the Pope.

"It makes me think of that poor girl this morning."

The Pope walked back to the carriage without saying a word. As he
returned to the Vatican, the Angelus was ringing from all the church
bells of Rome, the city was bathed in crimson light, the sun was sinking
behind Monte Mario, and the stone pines on the crest of the hill,
standing out against the reddening sky, were like the roofless columns
of a ruined temple.

V

Next day Francesca came up with a letter. The porter from Trinita de'
Monti had brought it and he was waiting below for a present. In a kind
of momentary delirium Roma snatched at the envelope and emptied her
purse into the old woman's hand.

"Santo Dio!" cried Francesca, "all this for a letter?"

"Never mind, godmother," said Roma. "Give the money to the good man and
let him go."

"It's from Mr. Rossi, isn't it? Yes? I thought it was. You've only to
say three Ave Marias when you wake in the morning and you get anything
you want. I knew the Signora was dying for a letter, so...."

"Yes, yes, but the poor man is waiting, and I must get on with my work,
and...."

"Work? Ah, Signora, in paradise you won't have to waste your time
working. A lady like you will have violins and celestial bread and...."

"The man will be gone, godmother," said Roma, hustling the deaf old
woman out of the room.

But even when Roma was alone she could not at first find courage to open
the envelope. There was a certain physical thrill in handling it, in
turning it over, and in looking at the stamps and the postmark. The
stamps were French and the postmark was of Paris. That fact brought a
vague gleam of joy. Rossi had been travelling, and perhaps he had not
yet received her letter.

With a trembling kiss and a little choking prayer she broke the seal at
last, and as the letter came rustling out of the envelope she glanced at
the closing lines:

"Your Faithful Husband."

She caught her breath and waited a moment, tingling all over. Then she
unfolded the paper and read:--

"DEAREST,--A telegram from Rome, published in the Paris newspapers
this morning, reports the trial and death of Bruno. To say that I
am shocked is to say little. I am shaken to my foundations.