It was a fine gift she had received in San Pasquale’s church. Not only could it not help the blind, but it was in a fair way to ruin the whole town. Now what little the people still possessed would go to the lottery collector. There would be a borrowing and a pawning. The syndic admitted Donna Elisa immediately, and was as calm and polite as always, although the women were calling in the square, the blind were bemoaning themselves in the waiting-room, and people had run in and out of his room all day. “How can I be at your service, Signora Antonelli?” he said. Donna Elisa first looked about and wondered to whom he was speaking. Then she told about the testament. The syndic was neither frightened nor surprised. “That is very interesting,” he said, and stretched out his hand for the paper. But Donna Elisa held the envelope fast and asked: “Signor Sindaco, what do you intend to do with it? Do you intend to fasten it to the Roman Gate?” “Yes; what else can I do, signora? It is a dead man’s last wish.” Donna Elisa would have liked to tell him what a terrible testament it was, but she checked herself to speak of the blind. “Padre Succi, who directed that the blind should always be allowed in his church, is also a dead man,” she interposed. “Signora Antonelli, are you beginning with that too?” said the syndic, quite kindly. “It was a mistake; but why did no one tell me that the blind frequent the church of Lucia? Now, since it is decided, I cannot annul the decision; I cannot.” “But their rights and patents, Signor Sindaco?” “Their rights are worth nothing. They have to do with the Jesuits’ monastery, but there is no longer such a monastery. And tell me, Signora Antonelli, what will become of me if I yield?” “The people will love you as a good man.” “Signora, people will believe that I am a weak man, and every day I shall have four hundred laborers’ wives outside the town-hall, begging now for one thing, now for another. It is only to hold out for one day. To-morrow it will be forgotten.” “To-morrow!” said Donna Elisa; “we shall never forget it.” The syndic smiled, and Donna Elisa saw that he thought that he knew the people of Diamante much better than she. “You think that their hearts are in it?” he said. “I think so, Signor Sindaco.” Then the syndic laughed softly. “Give me that envelope, Signora.” He took it and went out on the balcony. He began to speak to the women. “I wish to tell you,” he said, “that I have just now heard that old Fra Felice is dead, and that he has left a legacy to you all. He has written down five numbers that are supposed to win in the lottery next Saturday, and he bequeaths them to you. No one has seen them yet. They are lying here in this envelope, and it is unopened.” He was silent a moment to let the women have time to think over what he had said. Instantly they began to cry: “The numbers, the numbers!” The syndic signed to them to be silent.