There was a red smear across its face.
"Padre--is your--God--satisfied?"
His head fell back on the doctor's arm.
. . . . .
"Your Eminence!"
As the Cardinal did not awake from his stupor,
Colonel Ferrari repeated, louder:
"Your Eminence!"
Montanelli looked up.
"He is dead."
"Quite dead, your Eminence. Will you not
come away? This is a horrible sight."
"He is dead," Montanelli repeated, and looked
down again at the face. "I touched him; and he
is dead."
"What does he expect a man to be with half a
dozen bullets in him?" the lieutenant whispered
contemptuously; and the doctor whispered back.
"I think the sight of the blood has upset him."
The Governor put his hand firmly on Montanelli's arm.
"Your Eminence--you had better not look at
him any longer. Will you allow the chaplain to
escort you home?"
"Yes--I will go."
He turned slowly from the blood-stained spot
and walked away, the priest and sergeant following.
At the gate he paused and looked back, with
a ghostlike, still surprise.
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