“We have been poor before,” cried one of the women, “we can still be poor.”
“We will not choose Barabbas instead of Christ,” cried another.
The syndic took a match-box from his pocket, lighted a match, and brought it slowly up to the testament.
The women stood quiet and let Fra Felice’s five numbers be destroyed. The blind people’s church was saved.
“It is a miracle,” whispered old Donna Elisa; “they all believe in Fra Felice, and they let his numbers burn. It is a miracle.”
Later in the afternoon Donna Elisa again sat in her shop with her embroidery frame. She looked old as she sat there, and there was something shaken and broken about her. It was not the usual Donna Elisa; it was a poor, elderly, forsaken woman.
She drew the needle slowly through the cloth, and when she wished to take another stitch she was uncertain and at a loss. It was hard for her to keep the tears from falling on her embroidery and spoiling it.
Donna Elisa was in such great grief for to-day she had lost Gaetano forever. There was no more hope of getting him back.
The saints had gone over to the side of the opponent, and worked miracles in order to help Donna Micaela. No one could doubt that a miracle had happened. The poor women of Diamante would never have been able to stand still while Fra Felice’s numbers burned if they had not been bound by a miracle.