He wrapped himself in the brown cloak and went out through the fierce blinding storm
"Surely the prayers of the pious are needed this night," said the miller to his wife when he came in out of the fierce storm.
Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. The rain fell in torrents. The wind howled and drove the pouring rain against the windows. It blew in sheets through the door before the miller had time to close it behind him. The storm beat upon the thatched roof as if it would carry it away.
"Quick, your cloak!" cried the miller's wife. "Take it off that I may dry it by the fire!"
The good man started to obey. As he touched his cloak, however, his eyes opened wide in amazement. It was entirely dry.
"Feel it yourself!" said he to his wife. "There is not a drop of rain upon it!"
The miller's wife discovered that his words were true.
"It is a miracle of God!" cried she as she crossed herself.