He reminded her of the time when his crown had rolled to Gaetano’s feet, when he had been so angry with the brigands. Perhaps the Christ-image did not wish her to drive away the _jettatore_. She had good reason to fear the _jettatore_. It was wrong of him to come to her entertainment; she must somehow be rid of him. Donna Micaela had gone on through the whole church, and now stood and looked at the Christ-image. She could not say a word to the man who followed her. She remembered what sympathy she had lately felt for him, because a prisoner, like Gaetano. She had been so happy that she had tempted him out to life. What did she now wish to do? Did she wish to send him back to captivity? She remembered both her father and Gaetano. Should this man be the third that she-- She stood silent and struggled with herself. At last the _jettatore_ spoke:-- “Well, signora, is it not true that now you have had enough of me?” Donna Micaela made a negative gesture. “Do you not desire me to return to my cell?” “I do not understand you, signor.” “Yes, yes, you understand. Something terrible has happened to you to-day. You do not look as you did this morning.” “I am very tired,” said Donna Micaela, evasively. The man came close up to her as if to force out the truth. Questions and answers flew short and panting between them. “Do you not see that all your festival is likely to be a failure?”--“I must arrange it again to-morrow.”--“Have you not recognized me?”--“Yes, I have seen you before in Catania.”--“And you are not afraid of the _jettatore_?”--“Yes, formerly, as a child.”--“But now, now are you not afraid?” She avoided answering him. “Are you yourself afraid?” she said. “Speak the truth!” he said, impatiently. “What did you wish to say to me when you brought me here?” She looked anxiously about her. She had to say something; she must have something to answer him. Then a thought occurred to her which seemed to her quite terrible. She looked at the Christ-image. “Do you require it?” she seemed to ask him. “Shall I do it for this strange man? But it is throwing away my only hope.” “I hardly know whether I dare to speak of what I wish of you,” she said. “No, you see; you do not dare.”--“I intend to build a railway; you know that?”--“Yes, I know.”--“I want you to help me.”--“I?” Now that she had made a beginning, it was easier for her to continue. She was surprised that her words sounded so natural. “I know that you are a railroad builder. Yes, you understand of course that with my railroad no pay is given. But it would be better for you to help me work than to sit shut in here. You are making no use of your time.” He looked at her almost sternly. “Do you know what you are saying?”--“It is of course a presumptuous request.”--“Just so, yes, a presumptuous request.” Thereupon the poor man began to try to terrify her.