Guiseppe was glad to rest. Without a reply to Marta he sat down and listened to the strains of the song that floated to them.
"Cara bambina!" he murmured softly. His sickness seemed to be changing, softening him. His eyes almost sparkled with pleasure when he saw Pappina running toward him.
"Guiseppe, they were splendid to me!" she cried. "A grand gentleman gave me this," showing a franc. "He told me to keep it myself, that it was all for me, but it's yours, Guiseppe. Oh, I can't bear to have you sick," said the child, smiling through her tears.
Guiseppe patted her little hand as he took the proffered coin.
The sight of money turned his thoughts to getting on, and soon they arrived as one little party of a hundred thousand yearly seekers of health at the gray old church of Santa Maria del Rosario.
"Shall I sing?" asked Pappina as soon as she saw the crowds.
"First we must pray," Marta answered, taking the child's hand.
As soon as they entered the broad portals of the church, Guiseppe dropped to his knees, and thus he crept, with many others who were especially seeking health, toward the altar, mumbling his prayers as he counted his beads. Reaching the altar, he flung himself down before the dull, dim image of the Virgin, praying for the blessing of health.
Pappina and Marta, after saying a short prayer, stopped for a few minutes to look at the medallions covering the walls, then followed other visitors to the place in the church where the offerings of the healed are exhibited—a motley collection of baby dresses, shawls, dolls, jewels, and other articles of every kind and description.
Pappina, after a time, grew tired of looking at this display, and begged Marta to go outside to wait for Guiseppe.