“My friends, I wish to tell you something strange.”
He told them of the Englishwoman who had wished to steal the Christ-image of Aracoeli. And he told how the image had been called Antichrist and had been cast out into the world.
“I still remember old Fra Simone,” said Father Gondo. “He never showed me the image without saying: ‘It was this little hand that rang. It was this little foot that kicked on the door.’
“But when I asked Fra Simone what had become of the other image, he always said: ‘What should have become of him? The dogs of Rome have probably dragged him away and torn him to pieces.’”
When Father Gondo had finished speaking, he went, still quite slowly and quietly, and picked up the crown that he had just let fall to the floor.
“Now read that!” he said. And he let the crown go from man to man. The people stood with their wax-candles in their hands and lighted up the crown with them. Those who could read, read; the others saw that at least there was an inscription.
And each one who had held the crown in his hand instantly extinguished his candle.
When the last candle was put out, Father Gondo turned to his pilgrims who had gathered about him. “I have brought you here,” he said to them, “that you might find one who gives the soul peace and an entry to God’s kingdom; but I have brought you wrong, for this one has no such thing to give. His kingdom is only of this world.
“Our unfortunate sister has gone mad,” continued Father Gondo, “because she came here and hoped for heavenly benefits. Her reason gave way when her prayers were not heard. He could not hear her, for his kingdom is only of this world.”
He was silent a moment, and they all looked up at him to find out what they ought to think of it all.