— But she. . then where did she go?
— She went off with a vulgar person in a green silk necktie, who said he was going to enter her in a movie contest. That's simply all I know. There. There, do you see that rather clumsily collegiate person over there? with a green silk necktie? sitting with that odd little. .
— Thank you, Stanley said, turning away, and he hurried off.
— Is it trwue that the Cardinals can roller skate between the sala ducale and the cappella Sistina?
— I don't care if Moses is accused of witchcraft in the Koran, who reads the Koran?
Stanley caught up with the man in the green silk necktie at the terrace edge, as he was leaving, and immediately got across a pertinent description.
— Do you know her too? She's terrific, isn't she. I didn't even know she was a-merican, except for whatever the hell she was wearing, she looked like a regular eye-tye madonna, do you know what I mean?
— Yes but I… where is she?
— Well I'm here doing publicity for this movie on the life of the B.V.M., and we're running a competition for the lead. She's a natural for it. You know, I came up to her and I said, Spikka ing-glish? like that. I never learned Eye-talian, they didn't teach it at Yale.
— But she. .
— Not that I ever knew anyway. So I ask her if she was ever in the movies, and you know what she said? She said once she went and saw a picture about a funny man in a round black hat and a little mustache…
— But…
— Another time she saw Uncle Tom's Cabin where Little Eva gets pulled up on ropes to heaven, so I said, Not going to the movies, I mean ever acted in one. We've got a six-language sound track on this life of the B.V.M., we've rented a whole town for it.
— But. .
— We rented all the people in the town too. It's color. She's a natural for the B.V.M. What'd you do to your hand?
— Well that, I… there was a sort of a riot. . Stanley faltered.
— You in that too? Look. My checkbook, see? See that? A bullet. It stopped a bullet for me. I have to go. It's nice meeting you. See that little jerk who's with me? I have to have dinner with him, he's an ex-king. He wants a good publicity man to help him get his throne back. So long. It's nice meeting you, if you know her too. She's terrific. A natural. . the B.V.M. incarnate…
— But where is she? Stanley asked desperately, clinging to the hand which had seized his in an automatic gesture.
— Now? You got me. I tell you, all she talked about was she wanted to go up to some town into some rose garden, and see some guy up there who came down to the bottom of the ocean on a rope. I didn't get it, to tell you the truth. We barely had time to get a few stills of her. She's terrific, even in 3-D she'd be terrific, so I told her I'd send a studio car around to take her wherever the hell it is, this rose garden. She's going to call me. So long.
— Yes, I… so… so long.
Stanley stood scratching under one arm, and watched the lime-green convertible car roar away. Behind him, someone said,
— Of course the Vatican is abject poverty, after Delphi.
— Dear boy, thank Heaven you are all right. I've been praying.
— But. . what?
— A young man jumped from the inner dome of Saint Peter's, and I thought it might. . Oh! His body landed right in front of the high altar, right in front of all those tourists, and I felt. . though the paper does say he was a well-dressed young man.
Stanley followed her into the crowded room, where she sat down looking distracted. The chain rattled as she cocked her head to a distant sound of breakage, which reached them somewhat muffled by the red hangings. — It's been such a day, and poor Dom Sucio, he's being plagued by a gross German woman who wants her daughter canonized. She actually came here today looking for him, and We had to hide him in the harmonium. A Frau Fahrtmesser, Mrs. Deigh pronounced forcefully, — and she says she has her daughter with her, in the baggage room at the Stazione Termini. Then Mrs. Deigh gazed for a minute at Stanley, who shifted apologetically in his jacket. She shook her head, made the familiar chucking sound with her lips, and repeated, — Thank Heaven you are all right, as she picked up the newspaper. — Our scapular protected you, thank Heaven. She lowered her eyes to the paper, and shook her head over that. — We do hope they find them, she murmured.
— What?
— Saint Peter's bones. They've been after them for so long, she murmured, and continued to shake her head. The room was very warm, and Stanley sat forward on the edge of the Queen Anne chair with his hands clasped between his knees, staring at the floor. Once or twice he looked up about to speak, and finally he leaned back and rubbed his shoulders against the chair.
— I wanted to…
— The newspaper never tells Us nice things. Sometimes it just pipes in more blood than We think We can endure. And when you mentioned Our daughter, didn't you. We knew there was something, and now We remember. I was sure I'd read in the newspaper that she'd been hung for murder. Murdering her husband! And that is a little too much to endure, even for one's own flesh and blood. And in Mississippi.
— Yes, she. . but you should know, she. .
— She was always a willful girl. We did all We could, but We saw signs of her drifting away quite early. And when she confessed to Us that she chewed the wafer. . Mrs. Deigh looked up sharply, down again, and shook her head. — How sad We are that you will not be here for the canonization ceremonies of the little Spanish martyr. There will probably be fifty thousand people, and it will be the very first one to be held out of doors. We have tickets in the colonnade, you know. Why, there will probably be at least a hundred bishops, and His Holiness will wear the red mantle of martyrdom.
Stanley sat scraping the rug with the edge of his shoe, looking more apologetic, until the next thing she said, when he straightened up and almost brightened.
— And We have taken a vow to remain indoors until that glorious day.
— Oh, I… I wanted to ask you if I could… if I wanted to go somewhere if the Automobile could take me?
— You would have to tell Us where, she answered, and the chain rattled a slight reproach. — If only so We could give instructions to Orlando, since he cannot understand you.
— Well, to… to Assisi, I thought I… want to go to Assisi.
— The birthplace of Saint Francis! Of course, dear boy. That gentle, heavenly figure, so many stories have come down to us. To visit the Portiuncula, where he threw himself into the thorny rosebush in dead of winter, to overcome his passion… or We should say, the temptation to lessen his austerities, for it is his passion that we worship, is it not. It is almost time for the roses to come into bloom now, and you will see their little leaves spotted with his blood. Tell Us, dear Stanley. . She inclined toward him. The egglike object slipped from her lap, and swung on the chain to the floor between them. Stanley got it and handed it to her. She accepted it without a glance, looking into his face. — Do you consider taking Orders? For We have read in your sweet unselfish nature. .
— Well I… I… he commenced, when she left her words unfinished.
— And that is why you want to visit the shrine of the most selfless of the saints, the most humble? And see the very spot where he fought off the temptations of the Evil One?… — Well I… it isn't exactly for myself, I… Is Orlando really mute?
— Why yes, dear boy, but why do you ask that? And what do you mean…
— Well I mean, I mean not for myself, I mean, what I mean is not just for myself, I mean. .
— You mean not just for your physical self, your senses, she said helping him forth from his confusion. — You mean for your spiritual self too, of course We understand, dear boy. Of course.
— Yes, I… yes, Stanley said feebly, and sat back. Mrs. Deigh was silent. He looked up guardedly, ready for her eye on him, but she was gazing at the newspaper and shaking her head.