She turned and fled, looking back occasionally to see if she had been followed.
It is impossible to tell where or how long she would have run, had not her attention been attracted to a strangely dressed man. He was clad in a long robe of sackcloth, and around his waist was a girdle of rope from which hung a wooden cross. A crown of thorns was on his head and a heavy cross was strapped to his back. He carried a bundle from which he took little crosses now and then. These crosses he nailed to every door where no one objected—a warning lest the gayeties of the fete celebration should make people forget the welfare of their souls.
Pappina was so absorbed in watching him that she did not notice Marta's approach.
"Carina, carina!" the woman cried, clasping the child to her.
Pappina began to cry.
"I don't want to go back to Guiseppe," she sobbed. "I love you, Marta, but I hate Guiseppe. If you take me back he'll try to beat me."
It took Marta some time to calm Pappina, to make her understand that it was all a mistake that she had been (as she thought) deserted.
"Look at my eyes, carina. Are they not still red from weeping? There is no happiness for me away from the little one who holds my heart."
They went to join Guiseppe and the throng moving to the church. As they approached the showman, Pappina clung tightly to Marta's hand; her steps grew slower. She looked into Marta's face.