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."

"After she had signed the denunciation a warrant for his arrest was made
out and given to the Carabineers."

"It mentioned everything?"

"Everything."

"Who he is and all about him?"

"Yes, your Holiness."

The Pope fingered his crucifix again, and said, "Who is he, Father
Pifferi?"

The Capuchin did not reply.

"Father Pifferi, I ask you who he is?"

Still the Capuchin did not reply, and the Pope smiled a pitiful smile,
touched the friar's arm with a caressing gesture, and said, "Don't be
afraid for the Holy Father, carissimo. If that poor child, who would
have died rather than sacrifice her husband, could be so calm and
st