“My poor children,” said Father Gondo, sadly. “You have had Antichrist among you, and he has got possession of you. You have forgotten heaven. You have forgotten that you possess a soul. You think only of this world. “Formerly it was said that the people of Diamante were the most religious in Sicily. Now it must be otherwise. The inhabitants of Diamante are slaves of the world. Perhaps they are even infidel socialists, who love only the earth. They can be nothing else. They have had Antichrist among them.” When the people were accused in such a way, they seemed at last to be about to rise in resistance. An angry muttering passed through the ranks. “The image is holy,” one cried. “When he came San Pasquale’s bells rang all day.” “Could they ring for less time to warn you of such a misfortune?” rejoined the monk. He went on with his accusations with growing violence. “You are idolaters, not Christians. You serve him because he helps you. There is nothing of the spirit of holiness in you.” “He has been kind and merciful, like Christ,” answered the people. “Is not just that the misfortune?” said the Father, and now all of a sudden he was terrible in his wrath. “He has taken the likeness of Christ to lead you astray. In that way he has been able to weave his web about you. By scattering gifts and blessings over you, he has lured you into his net and made you slaves of the world. Or is it not so? Perhaps some one can come forward and say the contrary? Perhaps he has heard that some one who is not present to-day has prayed to the image for a heavenly grace.” “He has taken away the power of a _jettatore_,” said one. “Is it not he who is as great in evil as the _jettatore_ who has power over him?” answered the father, bitterly. They made no other attempts to defend the image. Everything that they said seemed only to make the matter worse. Several looked round for Donna Micaela, who was also present. She stood among the crowd, heard and saw everything, but made no attempt to save the image. When Father Gondo had said that the image was Antichrist she had been terrified, and when he showed that the people of Diamante had only asked for the good of this world, her terror had grown. She had not dared to do anything. But when he said that she and all the others were in the power of Antichrist, something in her rose against him. “No, no,” she said, “it cannot be so.” If she should believe that an evil power had governed her during so many years, her reason would give way. And her reason began to defend itself. Her faith in the supernatural broke in her like a string too tightly stretched. She could not follow it any longer. With infinite swiftness everything of the supernatural that she herself had experienced flashed through her mind, and she passed sentence on it. Was there a single proven miracle? She said to herself that there were coincidences, coincidences.