It was like unravelling a skein. From what she herself had experienced she passed to the miracles of other times. They were coincidences. They were hypnotism. They were possibly legends, most of them. The raging monk continued to curse the people with terrible words. She tried to listen to him to get away from her own thoughts. But all she thought was that what he said was madness and lies. What was going on in her? Was she becoming an atheist? She looked about for Gaetano. He was there also; he stood on the church steps quite near the monk. His eyes rested on her. And as surely as if she had told him it, he knew what was passing in her. But he did not look as if he were glad or triumphant. He looked as if he wished to stop Father Gondo, to save a little vestige of faith for her. Donna Micaela’s thoughts had no mercy. They went on and robbed her soul. All the glowing world of the supernatural was destroyed, crushed. She said to herself that no one knew anything of celestial matters, nor could know anything. Many messages had gone from earth to heaven. None had gone from heaven to earth. “But I will still believe in God,” she said, and clasped her hands as if still to hold fast the last and best. “Your eyes, people of Diamante, are wild and evil,” said Father Gondo. “God is not in you. Antichrist has driven God away from you.” Donna Micaela’s eyes again sought Gaetano’s. “Can you give a poor, doubting creature something on which to live?” they seemed to ask. His eyes met hers with proud confidence. He read in her beautiful, imploring eyes how her trembling soul clung to him for support. He did not doubt for a moment that he would be able to make her life beautiful and rich. She thought of the joy that always met him wherever he showed himself. She thought of the joy that had roared about her that night in Palermo. She knew that it rose from the new faith in a happy earth. Could that faith and that joy take possession of her also? She wrung her hands in anguish. Could that new faith be anything to her? Would she not always feel as unhappy as now? Father Gondo bent forward over the fire. “I say to you once more,” he cried, “if only one person comes and says that this image has saved his soul, I will not burn it.” Donna Micaela had a sudden feeling that she did not wish the poor image to be destroyed. The memory of the most beautiful hours of her life was bound to it. “Gandolfo, Gandolfo,” she whispered. She had just seen him beside her. “Yes, Donna Micaela.” “Do not let him burn the image, Gandolfo!” The monk had repeated his question once, twice, thrice. No one came forward to defend the image. But little Gandolfo crept nearer and nearer. Father Gondo brought the image ever closer to the fire. Involuntarily Gaetano had bent forward. Involuntarily a proud smile passed over his face. Donna Micaela saw that he felt that Diamante belonged to him. The monk’s wild proceedings made Gaetano master of their souls.