"If, in the providence of God, you were to meet your father somewhere,
and he held out his hand to you, would you ... wherever you met and
whatever he might be ... would you _shake hands with him_?"

"Yes," said Rossi; "if I were a King on his throne, and he were the
lowest convict at the galleys."

The Pope fetched a long breath, took a step forward, and silently held
out his hand. At the next moment the young man and the old Pope were
hand to hand and eye to eye.

They tried to speak and could not.

"Farewell!" said the Pope in a choking voice, and turning away he
tottered out of the room.

VIII

The doctor of the Engineers, not entirely satisfied with his diagnosis
of Roma's illness, prescribed a remedy of unfailing virtue--hope. It was
a happy treatment. The past of her life seemed to have disappeared from
her consciousness and she lived entirely in the future. It was always
shining in her eyes like a beautiful sunrise.

The sunrise Roma saw was beyond the veil of this life, but the good
souls about her knew nothing of that. They brought every piece of
worldly intelligence that was likely to be good news to her. By this
time they imagined they knew where her heart lay, and such happiness was
in her white face when as soldiers of the King they whispered treason
that they thought themselves rewarded.

They told her of an attempted attack on the Vatican, with all its
results and consequences--army disorganised, the Borgo Barracks shut up,
soldiers wearing cockades and marching arm in arm, the Government
helpless and the Quirinal in despair.

"I'm sorry for the young King," she said, "but still...."

It was the higher power working with blind instruments. Rossi would come
back. His hopes, so nearly laid waste, would at length be realised. And
if, as she had told Elena, he had to return over her own dead body, so
to speak, there would be justice even in that. It would be pitiful, but
it would be glorious also. There were mysteries in life and death, and
this was one of them.

She was as gentle and humble as ever, but every hour she grew more
restless. This conveyed to her guards the idea that she was expecting
something. Notwithstanding her plea of guilty, they thought perhaps she
was looking for her liberty out of the prevailing turmoil.

"I will be very good and do everything you wish, doctor. But don't
forget to ask the Prefect to let me stay in Rome over to-morrow. And