All the weary pilgrims realized that they had failed in their coming. All their laborious wanderings had been in vain. They were disappointed in their beautiful hopes. The holy image would have no consolation to offer them.
Father Gondo himself was in despair. It was a more severe blow to him than to any one else, for each one of the others had only his own sorrow to think of, but he bore the sorrows of all those people in his heart. What answer could he give to all the hopes he had awakened in them?
Suddenly one of his beautiful, child-like smiles passed over his face. The image must wish to test his faith and that of the others. If only they did not fail, they would certainly be helped.
He began again to sing the pilgrim song in his clear voice and went up to the altar.
But as he came nearer to the image, he broke off in his song again. He stopped and looked at the image with staring eyes. Then he stretched out his hand, took the crown and brought it close to his eyes. “It is written there; it is written there,” he murmured. And he let the crown fall from his hand and roll down on the stone floor.
From that moment Father Gondo knew that the outcast from Aracoeli was before him.
But he did not immediately cry it out to the people, but said instead, with his usual gentleness,--
“My friends, I wish to tell you something strange.”
He told them of the Englishwoman who had wished to steal the Christ-image of Aracoeli. And he told how the image had been called Antichrist and had been cast out into the world.
“I still remember old Fra Simone,” said Father Gondo. “He never showed me the image without saying: ‘It was this little hand that rang. It was this little foot that kicked on the door.’
“But when I asked Fra Simone what had become of the other image, he always said: ‘What should have become of him? The dogs of Rome have probably dragged him away and torn him to pieces.’”
When Father Gondo had finished speaking, he went, still quite slowly and quietly, and picked up the crown that he had just let fall to the floor.
“Now read that!” he said. And he let the crown go from man to man. The people stood with their wax-candles in their hands and lighted up the crown with them. Those who could read, read; the others saw that at least there was an inscription.