“Give it to me amicably, Donna Elisa,” said the man, “otherwise, by God, I will take it in spite of you. I will hack it to small pieces, to small, small pieces. You shall see how much there will be left of your wooden doll. You shall see if it can withstand the black Madonna.” Donna Elisa pressed against the mountain wall; she saw no escape. She could not run, and she could not struggle. “Micaela!” she wailed, “Micaela!” Donna Micaela was very pale. She held her hands against her heart, as she always did when anything agitated her. It was terrible to her to stand opposed to those dark men. These were they of the slouch hats and short cloaks of whom she had always been afraid. But now, when Donna Elisa appealed to her, she turned quickly, seized the image and held it out to the man. “See here, take it!” she said defiantly. And she took a step towards him. “Take it, and do with it what you can!” She held the image on her outstretched arms, and came nearer and nearer to the dark workman. He turned towards his comrades. “She does not believe that I can do anything to the doll,” he said, and laughed at her. And the whole group of workmen slapped themselves on the knee and laughed. But he did not take the image; he grasped instead the big pick-axe, which he held in his hand. He drew back a few steps, lifted the pick over his head, and stiffened his whole body for a blow which was to crush at once the entire hated wooden doll. Donna Micaela shook her head warningly. “You cannot do it,” she said, and she did not draw the image back. He saw that nevertheless she was afraid, and he enjoyed frightening her. He stood longer than was necessary with uplifted pick. “Piero!” came a cry shrill and wailing. “Piero! Piero!” The man dropped his pick without striking. He looked terrified. “God! it is Marcia calling!” he said. At the same moment a crowd of people came tumbling out of a little cottage which was built among the ruins of the old Palazzo Corvaja. There were about a dozen women and a carabiniere, who were fighting. The carabiniere held a child in his arms, and the women were trying to drag the child away from him. But the policeman, who was a tall, strong fellow, freed himself from them, lifted the child to his shoulder, and ran down the terrace steps. The dark Piero had looked on without making a movement. When the carabiniere freed himself, he bent down to Donna Micaela and said eagerly: “If _the little one_ can prevent that, all Corvaja shall be his friend.” Now the carabiniere was down in the square. Piero made a sign with his hand. Instantly all his comrades closed in a ring round the fugitive. He turned squarely round. Everywhere a close ring of men threatened him with picks and shovels.