They would have also liked to see those wonderful days in Castelbuoco, when the whole town was transformed into Jerusalem. There the mystery was given so that Jesus came riding to the town, and was met with palms at the town-gate. There the church represented the temple at Jerusalem and the town-hall Pilate’s palace. There Peter warmed himself at a fire in the priest’s court-yard; the crucifixion took place on a mountain above the town; and Mary looked for the body of her son in the grottoes of the syndic’s garden. When the people had such things in their memory how could they be content to see the great mystery in Don Antonio’s theatre? But in spite of everything, Don Antonio worked with the greatest eagerness to prepare the actors and to arrange the elaborate machinery. And behold, in a few days came Master Battista, who painted placards, and presented him with a play-bill. He had been glad to hear that Don Antonio was going to play “The Old Martyrdom;” he had seen it in his youth, and had great pleasure in it. So there now stood in large letters on the corner of the theatre: “‘The Old Martyrdom’ or ‘The Resurrected Adam,’ tragedy in three acts by Cavaliere Filippo Orioles.” Don Antonio wondered and wondered what the people’s mood would be. The donkey-boys and apprentices who passed by his theatre read the notice with scoffs and derision. It looked very black for Don Antonio, but in spite of it he went on faithfully with his work. When the appointed evening came, and the “Martyrdom” was to be played, no one was more anxious than Donna Micaela. “Is the little image going to help me?” she asked herself incessantly. She sent out her maid, Lucia, to look about. Were there any groups of boys in front of the theatre? Did it look as if there were going to be a crowd? Lucia might go to Donna Emilia, sitting in the ticket-office, and ask her if it looked hopeful. But when Lucia came back she had not the slightest hope to offer. There was no crowd outside the theatre. The boys had resolved to crush Don Antonio. Towards eight o’clock Donna Micaela could no longer endure sitting at home and waiting. She persuaded her father to go with her to the theatre. She knew well that a signora had never set her foot in Don Antonio’s theatre, but she needed to see how it was going to be. It would be such a dizzily great success for her railway if Don Antonio succeeded. When Donna Micaela came to the theatre it was a few minutes before eight, and Donna Emilia had not sold a ticket. But she was not depressed; “Go in, Donna Micaela!” she said; “we shall play at any rate, it is so beautiful. Don Antonio will play it for you and your father and me. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever performed.” Donna Micaela came into the little hall. It was hung with black, as the big theatres always were in the old days when “The Old Martyrdom” was given. There were dark, silver-fringed curtains on the stage, and the little benches were covered with black.