"He was born in Rome, but he does not know who his father was."
"What is he like to look upon?"
"He is like ... I have never seen any one so like ... will your Holiness forgive me?"
The colour had mounted to her eyes, her two rows of pearly teeth seemed to be smiling, and the sunny old face of the Pope was smiling too.
"Say what you please, my daughter."
"I have never seen any one so like the Holy Father," she said softly.
Her head was held down and there was a little nervous tremor at her heart. The Pope patted her hand affectionately.
"Have I asked you his name, my child?"
"His name is David Rossi."
The Pope rose suddenly from his seat, and for the first time his face looked dark and troubled.