"But suppose you heard in confession that your brother is to be assassinated, what is your duty?"
"My duty to the penitent who reveals his soul to me is to preserve his secret."
"And what is your duty to God?"
The handkerchief dropped from the Capuchin's hand.
The Pope paused, scraped the gravel with the ferrule of his stick, and said:
"Father, I am in the position of the confessor who has guilty knowledge of a conspiracy against the life of his enemy."
The Capuchin pushed his handkerchief into his sleeve and dropped back into his seat. After a moment the Pope told the story of what Roma had said of Rossi's plans abroad.
"A conspiracy," he said, "plainly a conspiracy."
"And what do you understand the conspiracy to be?"
"Who can say? Perhaps a recurrence to the custom of the Middle Ages, when citizens who had been banished by their opponents used to apply themselves in exile to attempt the reconquest of their country by stirring up the factions at home."