silence! silence!" cried the Pope, lifting a face full of
suffering. "Leave me! leave me!"

The Cardinal Secretary and his colleagues bowed to the Pope and backed
out of the room. A moment afterwards the young Monsignor entered. He was
bringing a newspaper in his hand, for as Cameriere Participante he was
one of the Pope's readers.

"Holy Father," he said in his nervous voice, "I bring you bad news."

"What is it, my son?" said the Pope, with a pitiful expression.

"The assassin of the Prime Minister turns out to be some one..."

"Well?"

"Some one known to your Holiness."

"Don't be afraid for the Holy Father.... Tell me, Monsignor."

"It is a lady, your Holiness."

"A lady?"

"She has been arrested and has confessed."

"Confessed?"

"It is Donna Roma Volonna, your Holiness. She shot the Prime Minister
with a revolver, and her motive was revenge."

The Pope lifted his head, and looked at the young Monsignor with an
expression which no language can describe. Relief, joy, shame, and
remorse were mingled in one flash on his broken and bankrupt face. He
was silent for a moment, and then he said:

"Say nothing of this to the young man in the room below. If he is in
sanctuary let him also be in peace. Whatever he is to hear of the world
without must come through me alone. Give that as my order to everybody.
And may God who has had mercy on His servant be good to us all!"

III

In penance for the joy he had felt on learning that Roma, not Rossi, had
assassinated the Minister, the Pope became her advocate in his own mind,
and watched for an opportunity to save her. Every day for a week
Monsignor Mario read the newspapers to the Pope that he might be fully
abreast of what occurred.

The first morning the journals merely reported the crime. The headless
one with the fearful hands had stalked over the city in the middle of
night in the shape of incarnate murder, and the citizens of Rome would
awake to hear the news with consternation, horror, and shame.

The evening journals contained obituary articles and appreciations of
the dead man's character. He was the Richelieu of Italy, the chivalrous
and devoted servant of his country, and one of the noblest figures of
the age.

"Extras" were published giving descriptions of the city under the first
effects of the terrible news. Rome was literally draped in mourning. It
was a forest of flags at half-mast. All public buildings, e