“Pardon me, Your Eminence; I ask you only one thing—to help me prevent riots and bloodshed. I am quite willing to admit that the military commissions, such as that of Colonel Freddi, were sometimes unnecessarily severe, and irritated instead of subduing the people; but I think that in this case a court-martial would be a wise measure and in the long run a merciful one. It would prevent a riot, which in itself would be a terrible disaster, and which very likely might cause a return of the military commissions His Holiness has abolished.”
The Governor finished his little speech with much solemnity, and waited for the Cardinal's answer. It was a long time coming; and when it came was startlingly unexpected.
“Colonel Ferrari, do you believe in God?”
“Your Eminence!” the colonel gasped in a voice full of exclamation-stops.
“Do you believe in God?” Montanelli repeated, rising and looking down at him with steady, searching eyes. The colonel rose too.
“Your Eminence, I am a Christian man, and have never yet been refused absolution.”
Montanelli lifted the cross from his breast.
“Then swear on the cross of the Redeemer Who died for you, that you have been speaking the truth to me.”
The colonel stood still and gazed at it blankly. He could not quite make up his mind which was mad, he or the Cardinal.
“You have asked me,” Montanelli went on, “to give my consent to a man's death. Kiss the cross, if you dare, and tell me that you believe there is no other way to prevent greater bloodshed. And remember that if you tell me a lie you are imperilling your immortal soul.”