He asked as quietly as before: “Shall an image which bears such words in its crown any longer be allowed to desecrate an altar?”
“No, no!” cried the pilgrims. The people of Diamante stood silent.
Father Gondo took the image in his hands and carried it on his outstretched arms through the church and towards the door.
But although the Father had spoken gently and humbly, his eyes had rested the whole time sternly and with compelling force on the crowd of people. There was not one there whom he had not subdued and mastered by the strength of his will. Every one had felt paralyzed and without the power of thinking independently.
As Father Gondo approached the door, he stopped and looked around. One last commanding glance fell on the people.
“The crown also,” said Father Gondo. And the crown was handed to him.
He set the image down and went out under the stone canopy that protected the image of San Pasquale. He whispered a word to a couple of pilgrims, and they hurried away. They soon came back with their arms full of branches and logs. They laid them down before Father Gondo and set them on fire.
All who had been in the church had crowded out. They stood in the yard outside the church, still subdued, with no will of their own. They saw that the monk meant to burn their beloved image that helped them so, and yet they made no resistance. They could not understand themselves why they did not try to save the image.
When Father Gondo saw the fire kindle and therefore felt that the image was entirely in his power, he straightened himself and his eyes flashed.
“My poor children,” he said gently, and turned to the people of Diamante. “You have been harboring a terrible guest. How is it possible for you not to have discovered who he is?