"That is to say religiously married, which is all the Church thinks
necessary."
"Ah, I see," said the Procurator General, suppressing a smile. "Still I
must ask the lady to make her statement in her natal name."
"Go on, sir," said the Capuchin.
"Your intimacy with the Honourable Rossi has no doubt led him to speak
freely on many subjects?"
"It has."
"He has perhaps told you that Rossi was not his father's name."
"Yes."
"That it was his mother's name, and though strictly his legal name also,
he has borne it only since his return to Rome?"
"That is so."
It was the Capuchin's turn to look surprised. His sandalled feet
shuffled on the carpet, and he prepared to take snuff.
"The Honourable Rossi has been some weeks abroad, and during his absence
you have no doubt received letters from him?"
"I have."
"Can you tell me if in any of these letters he has said anything of a
certain revolutionary propaganda?"
The Capuchin, with his finger and thumb half raised, stopped and said,
"I forbid the question, sir."
"Father General!"
"I mean that I counsel the lady not to answer it."
The Procurator General suppressed another smile, directed this time at
Roma, and said, "_Bene!_"
"Be calm, my daughter," whispered the Capuchin.
"At least," said the Procurator General, "you can now be certain that
you had seen the Honourable Rossi before you met him in Rome?"
"I can."
"In fact you recognise in the illustrious Deputy the young man condemned
in contumacy eighteen years ago?"
"I do."
"Perhaps in his letters or conversations he has even admitted the
identity?"
"He has."
"Only one more question, Donna Roma," said the Procurator General, with
another smile. "Your father's name in England was Doctor Roselli, and
the name of his young confederate----"
"Courage, my child," whispered the Capuchin, taking Roma's ice-cold hand
in his own trembling one.
"The name of his young confederate was----"
"David Leone," said Roma, lifting her eyes to the face of Father
Pifferi.
"So David Leone and David Rossi are one and the same person?"
"Yes," said Roma, and the Capuchin dropped back in his seat as if he had
been dealt a blow.
"Thank you. I need trouble you no more. My secretary will now prepare
the _précis_."
Commendatore Angelelli returned with the Carabineer, and there was some
talking in low tones. "Report for the Committee of the Chamber, sir?"
"That is unnecessary at this moment, the House having risen for Easter."
"Warrant for the arrest, then?" "Certainly. Here is the form. Fill it
up, and I will sign."
While the secretary wrote his _précis_ at one side of the table, the
Chief of Police prepared his _mandato_ at the other side, repeating the
words to the Carabineer who stood behind his chair. "We ... considering
the conclusions of the Public Minister ... according to Article 187 of
the Code ... order the arrest of David Leone, commonly called David
Rossi ... imputed guilty of attempted regicide in the year ... and tried
and condemned in contumacy for the crime contemplated in Article.... And
to such effects we require the Corps of the Royal Carabineers to conduct
him before us to be interrogated on the facts above stated, and call on
all officials and agents of the public force to lend a strong hand for
the execution of the present warrant. Age, 34 years. Height, 1.79
metres. Forehead, lofty. Eyes, large and dark. Nose, Roman. Hair, black
with short curls. Beard and moustache, clean shaven. _Corporatura_,
distinguished."
When the secretary had finished his _précis_ he read it aloud to Roma
and his superior.
"Good! Give the lady the pen. You will sign this paper, Donna Roma--and
that will do."
Roma and Father Pifferi had both risen. "Courage," the Capuchin tried to
say, but his quivering lips emitted no sound. Roma stood a moment with
the pen in her fingers, and her great eyes looked slowly round the room.
Then she stooped and wrote her name rapidly.
At the same moment the Procurator General signed the warrant, whereupon
the Chief of Police handed it to the Carabineer, saying, "Lose no
time--Chiasso," and the soldier went out hurriedly.
Roma held the pen a moment longer, and then it dropped out of her
fingers.
"Come," said the Capuchin, and they left the room.
There was a crowd on the embankment by the corner of the Ripetta bridge.
The body of a beggar had been brought out of the river, and it was lying
there for the formal inspection of the officials who report on cases of
sudden death. Roma stopped to look at the dead man. It was Old John. He
had committed suicide.