_ PART EIGHT. THE KING
CHAPTER VI
Flying from the railway station in the coupe, down the Via Nazionale and the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, Rossi had seen by the electric light the remains of the day's festoons, triumphal arches, banners, embroideries, emblems, and flowers. These things had passed before his eyes like a flash, yet they had deepened the bitterness of his desire to meet with Roma that he might thrust the evidence of her treachery into her face.
But when he came to his own house and Roma opened the door to him, and he saw her, looking so ill, her cheeks so pale, her beautiful eyes so large and timid, and her whole face expressing such acute suffering, his anger began to ebb away, and he wanted to take her into his arms in spite of all.
Roma knew she was opening the door to Rossi, whatever the strange chance which had brought him there, and when she saw him she made a faint cry and a helpless little run toward him, and then stopped and looked frightened. The momentary sensation of joy and relief had instantly died away. She looked at his world-worn face, so disfigured by pain and humiliation, and the arms she had outstretched to meet him she raised above her head as if to ward off a blow.
He saw under the veil she wore the terror which had seized her at sight of him, and by that alone he knew the depths of the abyss between them. But this only increased the measureless pity he felt for her. And he could not look at her without feeling that whatever she had done he loved her, and must continue to love her to the last.
Tears rose to his throat and choked him. He opened his mouth to speak, but at first he could not utter a word. At length he fumbled at his breast, tore at his shirt front, so that his loose neckerchief became untied, and finally drew from an inner pocket a crumpled paper.
"Look!" he said with a kind of gasp.
She saw at a glance what the paper was, and dared not look at it a second time. It was the warrant. She dropped into a chair with bowed head and humble attitude, as if trying to sink out of sight.
"Tell me you know nothing about it, Roma."
She covered her face with both hands and was silent.
"Tell me."
She had expected that he would flame out at her, but his voice was breaking. She lifted her head and tried to look at him. His eyes were fixed on her with an expression she had never seen before. She wanted to speak, and could not do so. Her lip trembled, and she hung her head and covered her face again, unable to say a word.
By this time he knew full well that she was guilty, but he tried to persuade himself that she was innocent, to make excuses for her, and to find her a way out.
"The newspapers say that the warrant was made at your instruction, Roma--that you were the informer who denounced me. It cannot be true. Tell me it is not true."
She did not speak.
"Look at the name on it--David Leone. There was only one person in the world who knew me by that name--only one."
She began to cry beneath her hands.
"I told you everything myself, Roma. It was in this very room, you remember, the night you came here first. You asked me if I wasn't afraid to tell you, and I answered no. You couldn't deceive the son of your own father. It wasn't natural. I was right, wasn't I?"
She felt him take hold of her hand and draw it down from her face.
"Look at the ring on your hand, dear. And look at this one on mine. You are my wife, Roma. Does a man's wife betray him?"
His voice cracked at every word.
"When we parted you promised that as long as you lived, wherever you might be, and whatever the world might do with us, you would be faithful to me to the last. You have kept your promise, haven't you? It isn't true that you have denounced me to the police."
He paused, but she did not reply, and he dropped her hand, and it fell like a lifeless thing to her side.
"I know it isn't true, dear, but I want to hear it from your own lips. One word--only one. Why shouldn't you speak? Say you know nothing of this warrant. Say that somebody else knew David Leone. It may be so--I cannot remember. Say ... say anything. Don't you see I will believe you whatever you say, Roma?"
Roma could control herself no longer.
"I know quite well it is impossible for you to forgive me, David."
"Forgive!"
"But if I could explain...."
"Explain? What can there be to explain? Did you denounce me to the magistrate?"
"If you could only know what happened...."
"Did you denounce me to the magistrate?"
She looked with frightened eyes at the bedroom door, and then dropped to her knees.
"Have pity upon me."
"Did you denounce me to the magistrate?"
"Yes."
His pale face became ashen.
"Then it's true," he said in a voice that hardly passed his throat. "What my friends have been saying all along is true. They warned me against you from the first, but I wouldn't believe them. I was a fool, and _this_ is my reward."
So saying he crushed the warrant in his hand and flung it at her feet.
Roma could bear no more. Making a great call on her resolution, she rose, turned towards the bedroom door, and, speaking in a loud voice in order that he who was within might hear, she said:
"David, I don't want to excuse myself or to blame anybody else, whoever it may be, and however wickedly he may have acted. But, from my soul and before God, I tell you that if I denounced you I did it for the best."
"The best!"
He laughed bitterly, but she forced herself to go on.
"When you went away you warned me that your enemies could be merciless. They _have_ been merciless. First, they tempted me with the fear of poverty. I had been accustomed to wealth, comfort, luxury. Look round you, David--they are gone. Did I ever regret them? Never! I was rich enough in your love, and I would not have sacrificed that for a queen's crown."
She looked up at his tortured face and saw that it was full of scorn, but still she struggled on.
"Then they tempted me with jealousy. The forged letter which killed Bruno was intended to poison me. Did I believe it? No! I knew you loved me, and if you didn't, if you had deceived me, that made no difference. _I_ loved _you_, and even if I lost you I should always love you, whatever happened."
Again she looked up into his face with her glistening eyes. It was not anger she saw there now, but an expression of bewilderment and of pain.
"Last of all, they tempted me with love itself. The treacherous tyrants deceived and intimidated the Pope--the good and saintly Pope--and through him they told me that your arrest was certain, your life in danger, and nothing could save you from your present peril but that I should denounce you for your past offences. The phantom of conspiracy rose up before me, and I remembered my father, doomed to life-long exile and a lonely death. It was my dark hour, dearest, and when they promised me--faithfully promised me--that your life should be spared...."
A faint sound came from the bedroom. Roma heard it, but Rossi, in the tumult of his emotion, heard nothing.
"I know what you will say, dear--that you would have given your life a hundred times rather than save it at the loss of all you hold so dear. But I am no heroine, David. I am only a woman who loves you, and I could not see you die."
He felt his soul swell with love and forgiveness, and he wanted to sob like a child, but Roma went on, and without trying to keep back her tears.
"That's all, dear. Now you know everything. It is not your fault that the love you have brought home to me is dead. I hoped that before you came home I might die too. I think my soul must be dead already. I do not hope for pardon, but if your great heart _could_ pardon me...."
"Roma," said Rossi at last, while tears filled his eyes and choked his voice, "when I escaped from the police I came here to avenge myself; but if you say it was your love that led you to denounce me...."
"I do say so."
"Your love, and nothing but your love...."
"Nothing! Nothing!"
"Though I am betrayed and fallen, and may be banished or condemned to death, yet...."
Her heart swelled and throbbed. She held out her arms to him.
"David!" she cried, and at the next moment she was clasped to his breast.
Again there was a faint sound from the adjoining room.
"The woman lies," said a voice behind them.
The Baron stood in the bedroom door. _