"Nay, sir; what Edera takes it keeps. He dropped where he knew it was deepest."
As the vicar returned up the village street there was not a soul to give him greeting except old Gianna, who kneeled weeping at his feet. The people poured out of their doorways, but they said not a word of welcome. The memory of Adone was an idolatry with them, and Adone had said that their priest had betrayed them. One woman threw a stone at Signorino. Don Silverio covered the little dog, and received the blow on his own arm.
"For twenty years I have had no thought but to serve these, my people!" he thought; but he neither rebuked nor reproached them.
The women as he passed them hissed at him; "Judas! Judas!"
One man alone said: "Nay, 'tis a shame. Have you forgot what he did in the cholera? 'Tis long ago, but still —"
But the women said: "He betrayed the poor lads. He brought the soldiers. He sold the water."
Under that outrage, his manhood and his dignity revived.
He drew his tall form erect, and passed through the reviling crowd, and gave them his blessing as he passed.
Then he went within his church; and remained there alone.
"He is gone to pray for the soul of Adone," said the sacristan.