Roma averted her eyes. "Wouldn't you be pale too if a thing like this
had gone off in your hands?"

By this time the Garibaldian had hobbled up behind his wife, and when
all was explained the old people announced that they were going out to
see the illuminations on the Pincio.

"They begin at eleven o'clock and go on to twelve or one, Signora.
Everybody in the house has gone already, or the shot would have made a
fine sensation."

"Good-night, Tommaso! Good-night, Francesca!"

"Good-night, Signora. We'll have to leave the street door open for the
lodgers coming back, but you'll close your own door and be as safe as
sardines."

The Garibaldian raised his pork-pie hat and left the door ajar. It was
half-past ten and the _piazza_ was very quiet. Roma sat down to write a
letter.

"Dearest," she wrote, "I have read in the newspapers what took
place on the frontier and I am overwhelmed with grief. What can I
say of my own share in it except that I did it for the best? From
my soul and before God, I tell you that if I betrayed you it was
only to save your life. And though my heart is breaking and I
shall never know another happy hour until God gives me release, if
I had to go through it all again I should have to do as I have
done....

"Perhaps your great heart will be able to forgive me some day, but
I shall never forgive myself or the man who compelled me to do
what I have done. Before this letter reaches you in Milan a great
act will be done in Rome. But you must know nothing more about it
until it is done.

"Good-bye, dearest. Try to forgive me as soon as you can. I shall
know it if you do ... where I am going to--eventually ... and it
will be so sweet and beautiful. Your loving, erring, broken-hearted
ROMA."

A noisy group of revellers were passing through the piazza singing a
drinking song. When they were gone a church clock struck eleven. Roma
put on a hat and a veil. Her impatience was now intense. Being ready to
go out she took a last look round the rooms. They brought a throng of
memories--of hopes and visions as well as realities and facts. The
piano, the phonograph, the bust, the bed. It was all over. She knew she
would never come back.

Her heart was throbbing violently, and she was opening the bureau a
second time when her ear caught the sound of a step on the stairs.