s the husband she is devoted to, the same...."

"The Sisters of the Sacred Heart will take her when all is over," said
the Pope.

"And the man, too, whatever his errors, has a certain grandeur of soul,
that lifts him far above these chief gaolers and detectives who call
themselves statesmen and diplomatists, these scavengers of
civilisation."

"He must go back to America and begin life again," said the Pope.

Two hours later Father Pifferi went off to fetch Roma, and the Pope sat
down to his mid-day meal. The room was very quiet, and in the absence of
the church bells the city seemed to sit in silence. Cortis stood behind
the Pope's chair, and the cat sat on a stool at the opposite side of the
table.

The chamberlains, lay and ecclesiastical, waited in the ante-camera, and
the Swiss and Noble Guards, the Palatine Guards, and the _palfrenieri_
dotted the decorated halls that led to the royal stairs.

But the saintly old man, who had a palace yet no home, servants yet no
family, an army yet no empire, who was the father of all men, yet knew
no longer the ordinary joys and sorrows of human life, sat alone in his
little plain apartment and ate his simple dish of spinach and beans.

XV

Good Friday's Ministerial paper announced in its official column that
late the night before the King, attended by the Minister of the
Interior, had paid a surprise visit to the Mint, which was in the Via
Fondamenta, a lane approached by way of the silent passage which leads
to the lodging of the Canons of St. Peter's. Roma was puzzling over the
inexplicable announcement, when old John, one of Rossi's pensioners,
knocked at her door. His face and his lips were white, and when Roma
offered him money he put it aside impatiently.

"You mustn't think a gold hammer can break the gate of heaven,
Eccellenza," the old man said.

Then he told his story. The King had seen the Pope in secret the night
before, and there was something going on about the Honourable Rossi.
John knew it because his grandson had left Rome that morning for
Chiasso, and another member of the secret police had started for Modane.
If Donna Roma knew where the Honourable was to be found, she had better
tell him not to return to Italy.

"Better be a wood-bird than a cage-bird, you know," the old man
whispered.

Roma thanked him for his news, and then warned him of the risk he ran,
being dependent on his grandson and his grandson's wif