Next day, in the early morning, there was a great stir, calling,
laughing, and rejoicing in the little town of Roccastretta. Men, in
Capuchin-like hoods, stood in the doors, women wrapped in their
mantles, leaned out of the windows; and from one house to another, and
one street to another, the laughing dialogue ran: "Ha, ha! what did we
say yesterday?" "He has come to reason over night!" "Only since
yesterday he has lain in the sea, and last evening he sent the rain!"
"And what a heavenly rain!"
"Yes, yes, the Evolino is a brave patron, we could not ask a better."
As Father Atanasio, who, any one could see, didn't know what sort of a
face to put upon the matter, slowly crossed the large open square where
the men were accustomed to idle about when they had no work to do, all
sorts of taunting salutations flew at his head:
"Oh, oh! Father Atanasio, but it _did_ help!" The father, who was a
discreet man, assumed an open, cheerful expression, returned the
greetings of his fellow townsmen with pompous nods and smiles, and
answered unctuously:
"No one ever addresses himself to the saints in vain: and even if this
time it was done after a rude fashion, Saint Pancras loves this town
and people too well to resent it. Besides, good for evil is the rule of
the saints."
"Very fine; yes, yes!" came back from the mocking house doors and
windows, "we know you are obliged to talk that way; but we know just as
well that the 'rude fashion' was necessary, and long live Don Cesare,
who put it into our heads!"
"And who saved you from putting the good Evolino to the test of fire?"
answered the little ship-trader, with a loud voice, as he came out of a
side street, and advanced toward his friends, receiving the praises and
congratulations that poured upon him from every side with dignified
self-approval, as if it were he, and not Saint Pancras, who had wrapped
the horizon in clouds, and caused the fruitful rain to descend over
fields and gardens. A quite extraordinary seriousness pervaded his
features and demeanor; he spoke with calm majesty, as his distinguished
namesake might have done after a victory over the Gauls. But whoever
had observed him closely could not have failed to detect the feverish
wandering of his glance, and a certain convulsive movement that now and
then overcame his right hand, causing it, without visible occasion, to
clutch itself into a fist, and to lay hasty hold on the handle of his
knife.
Only for a short time did Don Cesare feast upon the enthusiasm of his
fellow citizens. Turning toward Father Atanasio, he suddenly cried:
"And now, friends, not another moment's delay! Not an hour longer must
our good patron saint remain in the water. He has heard us, sooner than
we hoped, and we must be equally prompt in assuring him of our
gratitude, and in replacing him with all honor in his chapel. Come,
Father Atanasio, and call the Syndic also, for whoever helped yesterday
must help to-day, if he would not have the saint bear him a grudge!"
The wisdom of Don Cesare's words was obvious, even to Father Atanasio
and the Syndic;--though as to the latter, he never ventured to wish for
anything until the majority had first willed it; --and thus the whole
community set forth once more for the Promontory of Evolo, in spite of
wind and rain, feet in the wet sand, hands in pockets, cowls and gay
kerchiefs over their heads and necks. Don Cesare opened the procession,
between the Syndic and the priest.
"Where is your little sister Carmela?" asked the latter, after a while,
smiling cunningly, and glancing aside at his neighbor.
"Oh, father, I am not anxious about her," answered Don Cesare; "she was
on her feet early this morning, and gave me no peace trying to catch
the rain in her hands. A real child."
"Yes, yes," said the padre, politely; "Carmela is a fine girl, and
pretty. Nay, that is nothing to me, but others have remarked the same.
It would be a joy to me, Don Cesare, if I could see the two before the
altar. I speak of Nino, Don Cesare, who is courting her as if she were
the only girl in Sicily."
Behind the amiable tone in which these words were spoken, lay hidden a
quiet laugh at the thrust he delighted in being able to give his
neighbor. But the little ship-trader did not appear to notice it, and
replied quite seriously:
"And that will soon happen, Father Atanasio. In the chapel above they
will be betrothed before the image of the good Evolino."
His two comrades stared at him in astonishment.
"Nay, nay, my good Don Cesare," said the Syndic, "I would gladly see it
too, but Nino seems to us a little bit too rich."