“No, Piero, no, do not kill me!” she said eagerly. “They will send you to the galleys. You shall be relieved of seeing me again without that.”
She ran towards the other side of the square, where the ground fell away into an abyss. Every one understood her intention. Her face bore witness for her.
Several hurried after her, but she had a good start. Then the image, which she still carried, slipped from her arms and lay at her feet. She stumbled over it, fell, and was overtaken.
She struggled to get away, but a couple of men held her fast. “Ah, let me do it!” she cried; “it is better for him!”
Her husband came up to her also. He had caught up her child and placed him on his arm. He was much moved.
“See, Marcia, let it be as it is,” he said. He was embarrassed, but his dark, deep-set eyes shone with happiness and said more than his words. “Perhaps, according to old custom, it ought to be so, but I do not care for that. Look, come now! It would be a pity for such a woman as you, Marcia.”
He put his arm about Marcia’s waist, and went towards his house in the ruins of Palazzo Corvaja. It was like a triumphal entry of one of the former barons. The people of Corvaja stood on both sides of the way and bowed to him and Marcia.
As they went past Donna Micaela, they both stopped, bowed deep to her, and kissed the image which some one had given back to her. But Donna Micaela kissed Marcia. “Pray for me in your happiness, sister Marcia!” she said.
The blind singers have week after week sung of Diamante’s railway, and the big collection-box in the church of San Pasquale has been filled every evening with gifts. Signor Alfredo measures and sets stakes on the slopes of Etna, and the distaff-spinners in the dark alleys tell stories of the wonderful miracles that have been performed by the little Christ-image in the despised church. From the rich and powerful men who own the land on Etna comes letter after letter promising to give ground to the blessed undertaking.
During these last weeks every one comes with gifts. Some give building stone for the stations, some give powder to blast the lava blocks, some give food to the workmen. The poor people of Diamante, who have nothing, come in the night after their work. They come with shovels and wheelbarrows and creep out on Etna, dig the ground, and ballast the road. When Signor Alfredo and his people come in the morning they believe that the Etna goblins have broken out from their lava streams and helped on the work.