At half-past nine Don Rocco appeared in the doorway of his house to
start on his exodus. The overcoat of the professor danced around his
heels and swallowed up his hands down to his finger tips. The
stove-pipe hat, of enormous size, came down to his ears. The professor
followed right behind him, laughing silently. In the courtyard some
people attracted by the report of what had happened were laughing. "Oh,
Don Rocco, see what he looks like!" said the women. And one of them
would tell him about some action of Lucia, and another about another,
things of all kinds which he had never suspected. "Enough, enough," he
answered, disturbed in his conscience at all this malicious gossip. "It
is now all over, all over."
He went on, followed by them all, gave a last look at the fig tree near
the bell-tower, and passing between the cypresses in front of the
church, turned back toward the door, devoutly raised his hat, and bent
his knee.
The little wagon was awaiting him on the main road. The driver, seeing
him in this costume, laughed no less heartily than the rest.
Then Don Rocco took leave of all, again thanked the professor, sent his
respects to the countess, and reduced to silence those who were still
heaping abuse on Lucia. When he had taken his seat the beggar
approached him and put his right hand upon one of his shoes. "Is this
yours?" said he.
"Yes, yes, the shoes are," answered the priest with a certain
satisfaction, as the horse started.
The beggar carried to his forehead the hand that had touched the shoe
of Don Rocco, and said with solemnity:
"In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."