"How tired he looks! How white his face is! No, not white—ivory! No, marble—Carrara marble! He might be Lazarus who was dead and has come back from the tomb! No humanity left in him! A saint! An angel!"
"The spiritual autocrat of the world!"
"Viva il Papa Re! He's going by! Viva il Papa Re! He has gone.... Well!"
She was rising from her knees and wiping her eyes, trying to cover up with laughter the confusion of her rapture.
"What is that?"
There was a sound of voices in the distance chanting dolorously.
"The cantors intoning Tu es Petrus," said Don Camillo.
"No, I mean the commotion down there. Somebody is pushing through the Guard."
"It's David Rossi," said the American.
"Is that David Rossi? Oh, dear me! I had forgotten all about him." She moved forward to see his face. "Why ... where have I ... I've seen him before somewhere."