"And what has happened since yesterday?" asked the amazed padre.
"I may tell you now, my excellent Father Atanasio," answered Don
Cesare, and a knavish smile might have been seen to flash for one
instant from his eyes: "Yesterday, when we let down the good Evolino
from the rocks into the sea, everybody was crying for rain! rain! What
was the rain to me? I shouted with them because I wished them well, but
as for me, in the depths of my heart I asked for something quite
different."
"So, so!" said Father Atanasio, and poked the Syndic in the side behind
Don Cesare's back. He looked triumphantly around at those who followed,
winked at them with pompous, victorious eyes, and seemed suddenly to
grow a head taller than all the others, in the consciousness of
possessing such penetrating power of divining the hidden secrets of the
human breast.
"Yes, that is allowed to every one," continued Don Cesare, "and look!
the good Evolino has fulfilled the others' wish, and so I think to
myself; yours, too, will be fulfilled, Don Cesare, for there is not one
in the whole community that treats him as well as I do."
He thought about the foreign ships all the time he was speaking, and
gave a hasty glance toward the horizon, but nothing was to be seen
there, and he was forced to confine his hopes and longings to Carmela
and Nino. They had arrived at the foot of the promontory.
"I think we will remain below," said the Syndic; "the rope will be hard
to draw from the cliff, and, besides, some harm might easily happen to
the saint."
No one made any objection to this wise precaution, and on they went
over the steep path, in a long single file, as a flock of geese
marches, one behind the other--first the Syndic, then the padre, then
Don Cesare, then the rest. The rocks had grown very slippery from the
wet; every time a cowled figure lost footing and tumbled, more or less
ridiculously, into the sand, or caught at a neighbor's arm, or dress,
or leg, then arose a great laughing and screaming, and so the whole
company by degrees was brought into the best possible humor and
unanimity of mind.
Suddenly the procession came to a stop. The Syndic had turned pale as
chalk, and stood rooted to the ground. They could see his fat cheeks
shake, and his knees tremble, and were uncertain whether it was the
strong wind, or a terrible fright that made his hair rise up and stand
stiffly out all round his head.
"Holy Madonna!" they heard him gasp; "holy Madonna!"
"What is it? what is the matter?" they cried from every side, crowding
forward, and pitching over the rocks and through the water. But they
one and all stiffened with horror when they saw Saint Pancras, whom
they had thrown into the sea the day before, standing in the hollow of
the rocks, and, oh, fearful sight! holding his head in his arms! and,
oh, inconceivable miracle! the key of his chapel which they had left in
the door, now hung from the saint's finger!
Dumb from terror, old and young, men and women, remained as if
spellbound; cold shivers ran down their backs; they pressed closer
together, every hand made the sign of the cross on forehead and breast
at the same moment, every mouth murmured the prayer to the blessed
Madonna.
Even the wily Don Cesare, who had very distinct information concerning
the history of this miracle, felt himself agitated and overcome by the
general consternation; he, too, felt his knees knock together and his
blood congeal, and he made the sign of the cross and muttered, without
hypocrisy, "Holy Madonna, protect us!"
Father Atanasio was the first to venture forward, as belonged to his
office. Trembling in every limb, he pushed the Syndic aside, advanced
with hands raised and eyes directed toward heaven, to the headless
saint and sank, shaking, upon his knees, his example followed by the
whole company. His eyes at first sought the place where saints and men
are generally accustomed to carry their heads; there his glance found
nothing but the grewsome wooden stump, out of which ragged splinters
were sticking up in place of a neck, and, shuddering. Father Atanasio
lowered his gaze to Evolino's breast, where the head lay on the crossed
arms. But a new terror overcame him when he beheld the wild strange
alteration of that countenance, and he had to support himself with both
hands on the earth in order not to fall forward as if stunned by a
blow. But the others thought their padre was engaged in fervent
devotion, and muttered their litanies with lowered eyes and increased
zeal.
"San Pancrazio, dear, only Evolino," prayed the sly Don Cesare, in the
silence of his heart, "now remember me, and send Father Atanasio a
lucky thought. Don't forget that my little sister is up there in your
chapel with that cursed hound Nino; and, dear Evolino, send this wanton
coxcomb Nino a lucky thought, too, lest something unlucky befall this
day!"
Thinking, hearing, and the sending of lucky thoughts were perhaps a
trifle more difficult to the poor beheaded saint than formerly, when he
was whole, at any rate it was a long time before Father Atanasio awoke
from his stupor. But all at once it seemed as if a bright beam of light
fell upon his mind, and he gathered himself together.
"I understand the sign," murmured he, kissing the saint's feet; "be
thou blessed forever, San Pancrazio of Evolo."
Then he rose, turned to the anxiously-gazing crowd, spread out his
arms, and said:
"The saint has worked a miracle upon us. A miracle hath he wrought upon
himself. The long-desired rain he sent us by night, and he has
ascended, victorious over human devices, from the sea in which you had
sunk him, and here he stands, as a saint should, upon dry ground. And
behold him! for a sign that henceforth a new and a purer tie exists
between the patron and his people; with his own hands he has taken from
his shoulders that ancient heathen head, which he formerly wore to your
harm, and in defiance of the blessed Madonna. And as a sign of that
which he requires from you he has brought down the key of his chapel
and hung it on his finger, that you shall set up a new image for him
there; that you may know the old Evolino, as you have been wont to call
him, in remembrance of past times, dies to-day and a new San Pancrazio
enters into his place, a true and blessed saint, who will love and
protect you, and will never more allow the old heathen who hides under
these venerable garments to afflict your town and fields with drought,
bad harvests, and deadly pestilence."
Thus spake the honest father. The Syndic nodded applause, and Don
Cesare, of course, did the same. Then the saint was lifted with careful
hands and laid on the shoulders of several stout fellows; but the head
Father Atanasio placed with solemn importance in Don Cesare's hands;
then, holding the chapel key aloft in his own right hand, he led the
procession, which slowly and in deep silence moved toward the heights
above and the little sanctuary under the olive trees.
There was a couple there already, who had passed a bad night. Like one
bereft of reason, Carmela had thrown herself on the earth before the
altar.
"The saint! the saint!" sobbed the girl wildly. "It was he; he called
my name. I saw him as he came sweeping up the steep precipice. He
followed me; his halo streamed angry light through the darkness. Holy
Mother of God, I beseech thee defend and forgive thy sinful child!"
Nino tried in vain to quiet her.
"No," she cried, pushing him from her, as he sought to raise her from
the ground, "I followed you on an evil path, Nino; the saint has warned
us, and he will punish us. Did you not hear how he threw the door to
behind us? Nino, Nino, there is but one atonement--that you acknowledge
me as your true and honorable wife before this altar."
Nino faltered. The image of San Pancrazio stood before his own eyes,
and he could not shut it out. He, too, felt a tremor in his very soul,
for, however secure and sceptical he might represent himself, in the
depths of his consciousness there always remained the inherited fear of
the unknown--the secret dread of heaven and hell. In his heightened
pulse-beats, which he could distinctly hear, this feeling knocked
loudly at his heart.
A close, sultry air filled the chapel. Through the one little round
window over the altar a dusky glimmer fell, scarce brighter than the
surrounding darkness. Nino reached up and tried the door. He wanted to
open it, to let in the fresh night air, to scare away the fantasies
which were slowly surrounding his senses. But the door lay fast in bolt
and hinge and would not yield to his straining. He sought the latch
with groping fingers, and found that the key had been turned and drawn
out.
"Santo Diavolo!" he cried, ice-cold shivers running through every limb.
"The door is locked!"
"Locked, yes, locked," cried Carmela, springing from her knees, and
throwing herself on the threshold. "I saw him, how he followed at our
heels, and how he raised his hand with threatening gesture. Yes, I
heard him, and I saw him, and it is he who has locked us in his
sanctuary, that our deed may be expiated."
Thus the poor child raved in feverish terror. Nino listened without a
word. What should he do? What would come of all this? It was no use to
think of flight. The old stones lay fast one upon another, and fast lay
the old oaken doors on their hinges. In the morning all Roccastretta
would come to replace the saint on his pedestal, for he had sent the
rain without a doubt. Nino could hear the big drops pattering against
the window-panes. And they would find him here with Carmela. Alone with
Carmela in the chapel! And then? When Don Cesare stepped across the
threshold? Nino knew Don Cesare and what he had to expect from him. It
would be a battle for life and death, and all the men and women, Father
Atanasio and the Syndic--every one would be on the side of Carmela's
injured brother. Verily this was not the ending he had imagined for his
love adventure when he tempted Carmela to follow him to his quiet
Casina.
Ever blacker lowered the night, heavier and closer hung the clouds,
thicker poured the rain. And as Nino heard the rush of heavy drops on
the roof, and felt the moist breath of the drinking earth which came in
through the little window, it seemed as if something broke within his
heart, and a voice cried from the depths: "Every drop of rain that
falls from heaven proclaims the power of the saint, and can you doubt
the miracle which he has worked on you?"
Next morning, when the procession, led by Father Atanasio, stopped,
with the mutilated image of the patron saint, before his chapel, and
when the key entered in the lock, and the lock creaked, and the door,
swollen by moisture, turned slowly and heavily on its hinges, there was
one there whose heart beat violently, and whose blood boiled at fever
heat, one whose hand lay carelessly as if toying but none the less fast
and grimly on the handle of his knife--for who could foresee what was
going to happen? But Don Cesare breathed more freely, and let his knife
go, and with difficulty retained composure enough to play out the
_role_ he had assumed, when the padre stood still on the threshold with
a cry of astonishment, while out of the dusk from the foot of the altar
two figures advanced, kneeled with clasped hands before the good
father, and amid the astounded silence that fell upon them all, Nino's
voice was heard saying humbly:
"Saint Pancras has wrought a miracle not on our fields and gardens
alone; upon me and upon Carmela in the last night another has fallen.
How it happened, ask me not. The saint led us into this chapel with his
own hand, with his own hand closed the door and took away the key. At
the foot of his altar we have pledged each other our wedded troth, and
at the foot of his altar we beg you, Father Atanasio, to bless the
banns."
Then the little Don Cesare exulted aloud:
"Ha!" he cried, waving his little hands in the air, "that was what I
prayed yesterday of the good, dear Evolino for myself. That was it.
Father Atanasio! He gave you rain, and me he gave a brother-in-law.
Long live Evolino!"
And in his heart he added something more, which he did not think it
necessary to say aloud:
"Evolino," thought he, "you were wiser than I, and led me to a kingdom,
when I only looked for a she ass. The ships will come to the harbor of
themselves, but of himself never would this rascal Nino have taken my
little sister for his wife."
A few weeks later, when the wedding of Carmela and Nino was celebrated
with great pomp in the chapel of Evolo, a new image of the saint stood
on the altar, a gay, brand new image, which Don Cesare, with divers
other matters, had brought from a foreign ship that lay at anchor in
the harbor of Roccastretta, and had placed in the chapel in remembrance
of this day of miracles. The old Evolino, however, he claimed for
himself, and no one grudged him that worm-eaten and broken relic.
At the foot of the rocks of Evolo, in a cool arbor, searched through by
sun, and moonbeams, at the Casina, where Nino and Carmela were to make
their home, Don Cesare had set up the image--mended, and decently
restored by his own hand. It stood in a niche of stone under a roof of
fragrant orange trees, beside the ivy-wreathed Greek marble basin into
which the crystal spring of Evolo poured; and almost it seemed as if
the Evolino felt himself far more at ease amid these surroundings, near
the finely-cut bas-reliefs from his ancient temple, with the free winds
sighing around him, than above in his musty chapel. A singular
peacefulness seemed to have settled down upon his old head, stripped of
beard, and hair, and halo; he looked with Olympian smile upon the
youthful pair, gaily pursuing a frolicsome existence at his feet, on
this their wedding evening, and a faint spark gleamed in his painted
eyes, as Nino, who must have learned some lore of the ancient gods,
poured a goblet of fragrant Muscatel upon the ground before him, and
laughingly cried:
"To the gods belong the first drops; honor and glory to the gods and
the saints!"
When they had all departed, and even Don Cesare had taken leave of him
with a friendly, confidential nod, and when at last the Evolino stood
alone in the silent moonlight, a soft whisper fell from his lips:
"In spite of all, you feel yourselves drawn back again to the ancient
heathen gods, you dear gay heathen folk; and though new names have
taken the place of the old ones, in you, my cheerful, good-natured,
grown-up children, I recognize my early worshippers once more. In spite
of time and change you are they who used to lay fragrant wreaths on the
old god's altar, in the pillared temple on the cliff, and singing, and
laughing, and shouting, passed their shouting, singing, laughing life
away!"
Silently gleaming, the eternal stars beckoned, softly splashing, the
rippling spring murmured a kindly, comforting answer to the poor
forgotten God of the Winds.