When Father Gondo and the pilgrims came out to San Pasquale an hour later, they saw Margherita Cornado sitting on the platform by the high altar. She was sitting still and did not seem to notice their coming. But when Father Gondo came close up to her, she started up as if she had lain in wait for him and threw herself upon him. She seized him by the throat and tried to strangle him.
She was big, splendidly developed and strong. It was only after a severe struggle that Father Gondo and two of the pilgrims succeeded in subduing her. She was quite mad, and so violent that she had to be bound.
The pilgrims had come in a solemn procession; they sang, and held burning candles in their hands. There was a long line of them, for many people from Diamante had joined them. Those who came first immediately stopped their singing; those coming after had noticed nothing and continued their song. But then the news of what had happened passed from file to file, and wherever it came the song stopped. It was horrible to hear how it died away and changed into a low wail.
All the weary pilgrims realized that they had failed in their coming. All their laborious wanderings had been in vain. They were disappointed in their beautiful hopes. The holy image would have no consolation to offer them.
Father Gondo himself was in despair. It was a more severe blow to him than to any one else, for each one of the others had only his own sorrow to think of, but he bore the sorrows of all those people in his heart. What answer could he give to all the hopes he had awakened in them?
Suddenly one of his beautiful, child-like smiles passed over his face. The image must wish to test his faith and that of the others. If only they did not fail, they would certainly be helped.
He began again to sing the pilgrim song in his clear voice and went up to the altar.
But as he came nearer to the image, he broke off in his song again. He stopped and looked at the image with staring eyes. Then he stretched out his hand, took the crown and brought it close to his eyes. “It is written there; it is written there,” he murmured. And he let the crown fall from his hand and roll down on the stone floor.
From that moment Father Gondo knew that the outcast from Aracoeli was before him.
But he did not immediately cry it out to the people, but said instead, with his usual gentleness,—