“The image ought to stand on the Capitol and govern the world,” said the people of Diamante.
“All those who govern us are incapable,” said the people. “We prefer to be guided by the holy Christchild.”
“The Christchild is powerful and charitable; if he ruled us, the poor would be rich, and the rich would have enough. He knows who wish to do right. If he should come to power, they who now are ruled would sit in the parliament. He would pass through the world like a plough with a sharp edge, and that which now lies unprofitable in the depths would then bear harvests.”
Before their longed-for plans came to pass, however, in the first days of March, 1896, the news of the battle at Adna arrived. The Italians had been defeated, and several thousands of them were killed or taken prisoners.
A few days later there was a change of ministry in Rome. And the man who came to power was afraid of the rage and despair of the Sicilians. To pacify them he pardoned out several of the imprisoned socialists. The five for whom he thought the people longed most were set free. They were Da Felice, Bosco, Verro, Barbato and Alagona.
Ah, Micaela tried to be glad when she heard it. She tried not to weep.
She had believed that Gaetano was in prison because the Christ-image was to break down the walls of his cell. He was sent there by the grace of God, because he had to be forced to bow his head before the Christchild and say: “My Lord and my God.”
But now it was not the image which had freed him; he would come out the same heathen as before; the same yawning chasm would still exist between them.
She tried to be glad. It was enough that he was free. What did she or her happiness matter in comparison to that!
But it happened so with everything for which Diamante had hoped and striven.