"Where am I?"
Of course every one was as surprised as they could be, and there was plenty of running backward and forward to the smithy for blankets, shawls, and pillows, of which they made a bed in a cart that was outside waiting to be repaired. Into this they put the man on whom such a miracle had been worked, and the funeral procession returned as a triumphant one to Srankó's house. He had so far recovered on the way home as to ask for something to eat immediately on his arrival.
They brought him a jug of milk, at which he shook his head. Lajkó offered him a flask of brandy he had taken with him to cheer his drooping spirits. He smiled and accepted it.
This ridiculous incident was the beginning of the umbrella legend, which spread and spread beyond the village, beyond the mountains, increasing in detail as it went. If a mark or impression were found on a rock it was said to be the print of St. Peter's foot. If a flower of particularly lovely color were found growing on the meadow, St. Peter's stick had touched the spot. Everything went to prove that St. Peter had been in Glogova lately. After all it was no common case.
The only real mystery in the whole affair was how the umbrella had come to be spread over little Veronica's basket; but that was enough to make the umbrella noted. And its fame spread far and wide, as far as the Bjela Voda flows; the Slovak peasants told the tale sitting round the fire, with various additions, according to the liveliness of their imagination. They imagined St. Peter opening the gates of Heaven, and coming out with the umbrella in his hand, in order to bring it down to the priest's little sister. The only question they could not settle was how St. Peter had got down to the earth. But they thought he must have stood on a cloud which let him gently down, and set him on the top of one of the neighboring hills.
Then they discussed the power the umbrella possessed of raising the dead to life, and so the legend was spread abroad. And whenever a rich peasant died, even in the villages miles off, Father János was sent for, with the red umbrella, to read the burial services. He was also sent for to sick persons who wished the umbrella spread over them while they confessed their sins. It must have a good effect, and either the sick person would recover, or if he did not do that he was at least sanctified.
If a newly married couple wished to do things very grandly (and they generally do), they were not only married at home by their own priest, but they made a pilgrimage to Glogova in order to join hands once more under the sacred umbrella. And that, to them, was the real ceremony. The bell-ringer held it over their heads, and in return many a piece of silver found its way into his pocket. And as for the priest, money and presents simply poured in upon him. At first he fought against all this superstition, but after a while even he began to believe that the red umbrella, which day by day got more faded and shabby, was something out of the common. Had it not appeared on the scene as though in answer to his prayer, and was it not the source of all his good fortune?
"Oh, Lord!" he had prayed, "unless Thou workest a miracle, how am I to bring up the child?"
And lo and behold, the miracle had been worked! Money, food, all the necessaries of life flowed from that ragged old umbrella. Its fame spread to higher circles too. The Bishop of Besztercebánya heard of it and sent for Father János and the umbrella; and after having examined it and heard the whole story, he crossed his hands on his breast and exclaimed: "Deus est omnipotens." Which was equivalent to saying he believed in it.
A few weeks later he went still further, and sent orders for the umbrella to be kept in the church, instead of in the priest's room. Upon which Father János answered that in reality the umbrella belonged to his little sister, who was still a minor, so that he had no right to it, nor to give it away. But he was sure, as soon as Veronica was of age, she would make a present of it to the church. But the umbrella not only brought good fortune to the priest, who soon started a small farm, and in a few years built himself a new house, and kept a horse and trap, but it made a great difference in Glogova too. Every summer numbers of ladies came from the small watering-places round about, very often countesses too (mostly old countesses), in order to say a prayer under the umbrella, and for these an inn was built opposite the priest's house, called the "Miraculous Umbrella." In fact, Glogova increased in size and importance from day to day.