"It is, your Holiness."
"Where is he now?"
"He has forced his way in as far as the Sala Clementina, and nothing but
physical force...."
Sounds of voices raised in dispute could be heard in a distant room. The
Pope listened and said:
"Let the man come up immediately."
"Here, your Holiness?"
"Here."
The Maestro di Camera had hardly gone from the Pope's bedroom when the
Secretary of State entered it with hasty steps.
"Your Holiness," he said, "you will not allow yourself to receive this
person? It is sufficiently clear that he must have escaped from the
police during the night, probably by the help of confederates, and to
shelter him will be to come into collision with the civil authorities."
"The young man demands sanctuary, your Eminence, and whatever the
consequences we have no right to refuse it."
"But sanctuary is obsolete, your Holiness."
"Nothing can be obsolete that is of divine institution, your Eminence."
"But, your Holiness, it can only exist by virtue of concession from the
State, and the present relation of the Church to the State of Italy..."
"Your Eminence, I will ask you to let the young man come in."
"Your Holiness, I beg, I pray, reflect..."
"Let the young man come in, your Em..."
The Pope had not finished when the words were struck out of his mouth by
an apparition which appeared at his bedroom door. It was that of a young
man, whose eyes were wild, whose nostrils were quivering, and whose
clothes hung about him in rags as if they had been torn in a recent
struggle. He had a look of despair and suffering, yet it was the same to
the Pope at that moment as if he were looking at his own features in a
glass.
The young man was surrounded by Swiss Guards, and the Maestro di Camera
pushed in ahead of him. Coming face to face with the Pope propped up in
his bed, the loud tones on which he was protesting died in his throat,
and he stood in silence on the threshold of the room.
The Pope was the first to speak.
"What is it you wish to say to me, my son?"
The young man seemed to recover his self-possession, but without a
genuflexion or even a bow of the head, and with a slightly defiant
manner, he said, "My name is David Leone. They call me Rossi, because
that was my mother's name, and they said I had no right to my father's.
I am a Roman, and I have been two months abroad. For ten years I have
worked for the people, and now I am denounced and betrayed to the
police. Three days ago I was arrested on returning to Italy, and
to-night by the help of friends I have escaped from the Carabineers. But
every gate is closed against me, and I cannot get out of Rome. This is
the Vatican, and the Vatican is sanctuary. Will you take me in?"
The Pope looked at the Swiss Guard, and said in a tremulous voice,
"Gentlemen, you will take this young man to your own quarters, and see
that no Carabineer lays hand on him without my knowledge and consent."
"Your Holiness!" protested the Cardinal Secretary, but the Pope raised
his hand and silenced him.
Rossi's defiant manner left him. "Wait," he said. "Before you decide to
take me in you must know more about me, and what I am charged with. I am
the Deputy Rossi who is said to have instigated the late riots. The
warrant for my arrest accuses me of treason and an attempt on the person
of the late King. It is false, but you must look at it for yourself.
Here it is."
So saying he plunged into his pocket for the paper, and then said, "It
is gone! I remember now--I flung it at the feet of my betrayer."
"Gentlemen," said the Pope, still addressing the Swiss Guard, "if the
civil authorities attempt to arrest this young man, you may tell them
they can only do so by giving a written promise of safety for life and
limb."
Rossi's wild eyes began to melt. "You are very good," he said, "and I
will not deceive you. Although I am innocent of the crime they charge me
with, I have broken the law of God and of my country, and if you have
any fear of the consequences you must turn me out while there is still
time."
"Gentlemen," said the Pope, "instead of taking this young man to your
quarters, let him be lodged in the empty apartment below my own, which
was formerly occupied by the Secretary of State."
Rossi broke down utterly and fell to his knees. The Pope raised two
fingers and blessed him.
"Go to your room and rest, my son, and God grant you a little repose."
"Father!"
By an impulse he could not resist, Rossi had risen from his knees, taken
two or three steps forward, knelt again by the side of the bed, and put
his lips to the Pope's hand.
With wet eyes that gleamed under his grey brows the Pope followed the
young man out until, surrounded by the Swiss Guard, he had passed from
the room. Then he rose and turned into his private chapel for his early
Mass.