inging to some waif and stray of hope. It was gone now, and
there was no use struggling. The nothingness of man against the
pitilessness of fate made all the world a blank.

Rossi had rung the bell to ask for an audience with his Holiness when
the door opened and the Pope himself entered.

"Holy Father, I wished to speak to you."

"What about, my son?"

"Myself. Now I see that I did wrong to ask for your protection. You
thought I was innocent, and there was something I did not tell you. When
I said I was guilty before God and man, you did not understand what I
meant. Holy Father, I meant that I had committed murder."

The Pope did not answer, and Rossi went on, his voice ringing with the
baleful sentiments which possessed him.

"To tell you the truth, Holy Father, I hardly thought of it myself. What
I had done was partly in self-defence, and I did not consider it a
crime. And then, he whose life I had taken was an evil man, with the
devil's dues in him, and I felt no more remorse after killing him than
if I had trodden on a poisonous adder. But now I see things differently.
In coming here I exposed you to danger at the hands of the State. I ask
your pardon, and I beg you to let me go."

"Where will you go to?"

"Anywhere--nowhere--I don't know yet."

The Pope looked at the young face, cut deep with lines of despair, and
his heart yearned over it.

"Sit down, my son. Let us think. Though you did not tell me of the
assassination, I soon knew all about it.... Partly in self-defence, you
say?"

"That is so, but I do not urge it as an excuse. And if I did, who else
knows anything about it?"

"Is there nobody who knows?"

"One, perhaps. But it is my wife, and she could have no interest in
saving me now, even if I wished to be saved.... I have read her
letters."

"If I were to tell you it is not so, my son--that your wife is still
ready to sacrifice herself for your safety...."

"But that is impossible, your Holiness. There are so many things you do
not know."

"If I were to tell you that I have just seen her, and, notwithstanding
your want of faith in her, she still has faith in you...."

The deep lines of despair began to pass from Rossi's face, and he made a
cry of joy.

"If I were to say that she loves you, and would give her life for
you...."

"Is it possible? Do you tell me that? In spite of everything? And
she--where is she? Let me go to her. Holy Father, if you only knew! I'll
go and beg her