Elisabetta continued in this deplorable state till September of that year, when the nuns thought of getting her to wear a black votive dress in honour of St. Rita. This dress was first blessed by the confessor and touched to the receptacle in which the saint's body lies. She was dressed in that habit and her eyes touched with a little silver rod, which tradition says once touched St. Rita's forehead. The mistress noted that afterwards the flow of humour from her eyes had decreased, and this fact gave Elisabetta courage to have greater confidence in the saint's protection. That morning the nuns, according to custom, were sorting in the courtyard the corn to be employed in making the little loaves of St. Rita. The mistress brought Elisabetta to them, and she sat down near one of the nuns, and, owing to her blindness, began, instead of selecting the best, to mix what had already been sorted with the inferior corn. The nun told her to keep quiet, and the mistress then gave her a cup with some corn in it to play with. As soon as Elisabetta got the cup she began to stir the corn with her little hand, and suddenly called out that she could see, and as she did not know what corn should be rejected, she held out a grain in her hand and asked whether that should be put aside or not. At the same time she threw off the green patches, and the nuns ran in astonishment to look at the child's eyes, and saw that they were most beautiful and entirely cured. To make sure that she had recovered her sight they made her sort all the corn that she had in the cup, and she did it perfectly. Then they all went together to where the saint's body was to thank her for so great a miracle. The child then saw for the first time the body of her benefactress, and she wept with love, and with her arms crossed returned her thanks in a loud voice. When the doctor of the convent saw Elisabetta he declared that the saint had worked a great miracle, and that otherwise she never would have been able to see. The child remained in the convent for nearly three years after, and her eyes were always strong. She learned so well to read that she used to recite the office in choir with the nuns, and read instruction for the lay sisters. She also learned to write and sew, and do other feminine work that needs very acute sight. As a complement of the narration of this miracle, we judge it right to quote the words of a famous Roman physician, who was called on to give his judgment on this prodigious event. His learned opinion, delivered in writing, ends thus: