“You must remember,” he said, “that it was impossible for Fra Felice to know what numbers will be drawn next Saturday. If you play on these numbers, you may all lose. And we cannot afford to be poorer than we are already here in Diamante. I ask you therefore to let me destroy the testament without any one seeing it.” “The numbers,” cried the women, “give us the numbers!” “If I am permitted to destroy the testament,” said the syndic, “I promise you that the blind shall have their church again.” There was silence in the square. Donna Elisa rose from her seat in the hall of the court-house and seized the back of her chair with both hands. “I leave it to you to choose between the church and the numbers,” said the syndic. “God in heaven!” sighed Donna Elisa, “is he a devil to tempt poor people in such a way?” “We have been poor before,” cried one of the women, “we can still be poor.” “We will not choose Barabbas instead of Christ,” cried another. The syndic took a match-box from his pocket, lighted a match, and brought it slowly up to the testament. The women stood quiet and let Fra Felice’s five numbers be destroyed. The blind people’s church was saved. “It is a miracle,” whispered old Donna Elisa; “they all believe in Fra Felice, and they let his numbers burn. It is a miracle.” * * * * * Later in the afternoon Donna Elisa again sat in her shop with her embroidery frame. She looked old as she sat there, and there was something shaken and broken about her. It was not the usual Donna Elisa; it was a poor, elderly, forsaken woman. She drew the needle slowly through the cloth, and when she wished to take another stitch she was uncertain and at a loss. It was hard for her to keep the tears from falling on her embroidery and spoiling it. Donna Elisa was in such great grief for to-day she had lost Gaetano forever. There was no more hope of getting him back. The saints had gone over to the side of the opponent, and worked miracles in order to help Donna Micaela. No one could doubt that a miracle had happened. The poor women of Diamante would never have been able to stand still while Fra Felice’s numbers burned if they had not been bound by a miracle. It made a poor soul so old and cross to have the good saints help Donna Micaela, who did not like Gaetano. The door-bell jingled violently, and Donna Elisa rose from old habit. It was Donna Micaela. She was joyful, and came toward Donna Elisa with outstretched hands. But Donna Elisa turned away, and could not press her hand. Donna Micaela was in raptures. “Ah, Donna Elisa, you have helped my railway. What can I say? How shall I thank you?” “Never mind about thanking me, sister-in-law!” “Donna Elisa!” “If the saints wish to give us a railway, it must be because Diamante needs it, and not because they love _you_.”