Next day, in the early morning, there was a great stir, calling, laughing, and rejoicing in the little town of Roccastretta. Men, in Capuchin-like hoods, stood in the doors, women wrapped in their mantles, leaned out of the windows; and from one house to another, and one street to another, the laughing dialogue ran: "Ha, ha! what did we say yesterday?" "He has come to reason over night!" "Only since yesterday he has lain in the sea, and last evening he sent the rain!"
"And what a heavenly rain!"
"Yes, yes, the Evolino is a brave patron, we could not ask a better."
As Father Atanasio, who, any one could see, didn't know what sort of a face to put upon the matter, slowly crossed the large open square where the men were accustomed to idle about when they had no work to do, all sorts of taunting salutations flew at his head:
"Oh, oh! Father Atanasio, but itdidhelp!" The father, who was a discreet man, assumed an open, cheerful expression, returned the greetings of his fellow townsmen with pompous nods and smiles, and answered unctuously:
"No one ever addresses himself to the saints in vain: and even if this time it was done after a rude fashion, Saint Pancras loves this town and people too well to resent it. Besides, good for evil is the rule of the saints."
"Very fine; yes, yes!" came back from the mocking house doors and windows, "we know you are obliged to talk that way; but we know just as well that the 'rude fashion' was necessary, and long live Don Cesare, who put it into our heads!"
"And who saved you from putting the good Evolino to the test of fire?" answered the little ship-trader, with a loud voice, as he came out of a side street, and advanced toward his friends, receiving the praises and congratulations that poured upon him from every side with dignified self-approval, as if it were he, and not Saint Pancras, who had wrapped the horizon in clouds, and caused the fruitful rain to descend over fields and gardens. A quite extraordinary seriousness pervaded his features and demeanor; he spoke with calm majesty, as his distinguished namesake might have done after a victory over the Gauls. But whoever had observed him closely could not have failed to detect the feverish wandering of his glance, and a certain convulsive movement that now and then overcame his right hand, causing it, without visible occasion, to clutch itself into a fist, and to lay hasty hold on the handle of his knife.
Only for a short time did Don Cesare feast upon the enthusiasm of his fellow citizens. Turning toward Father Atanasio, he suddenly cried:
"And now, friends, not another moment's delay! Not an hour longer must our good patron saint remain in the water. He has heard us, sooner than we hoped, and we must be equally prompt in assuring him of our gratitude, and in replacing him with all honor in his chapel. Come, Father Atanasio, and call the Syndic also, for whoever helped yesterday must help to-day, if he would not have the saint bear him a grudge!"
The wisdom of Don Cesare's words was obvious, even to Father Atanasio and the Syndic;--though as to the latter, he never ventured to wish for anything until the majority had first willed it; --and thus the whole community set forth once more for the Promontory of Evolo, in spite of wind and rain, feet in the wet sand, hands in pockets, cowls and gay kerchiefs over their heads and necks. Don Cesare opened the procession, between the Syndic and the priest.
"Where is your little sister Carmela?" asked the latter, after a while, smiling cunningly, and glancing aside at his neighbor.
"Oh, father, I am not anxious about her," answered Don Cesare; "she was on her feet early this morning, and gave me no peace trying to catch the rain in her hands. A real child."
"Yes, yes," said the padre, politely; "Carmela is a fine girl, and pretty. Nay, that is nothing to me, but others have remarked the same. It would be a joy to me, Don Cesare, if I could see the two before the altar. I speak of Nino, Don Cesare, who is courting her as if she were the only girl in Sicily."
Behind the amiable tone in which these words were spoken, lay hidden a quiet laugh at the thrust he delighted in being able to give his neighbor. But the little ship-trader did not appear to notice it, and replied quite seriously:
"And that will soon happen, Father Atanasio. In the chapel above they will be betrothed before the image of the good Evolino."
His two comrades stared at him in astonishment.
"Nay, nay, my good Don Cesare," said the Syndic, "I would gladly see it too, but Nino seems to us a little bit too rich."
Don Cesare caught him up quickly: "I thought so myself yesterday."
"And what has happened since yesterday?" asked the amazed padre.
"I may tell you now, my excellent Father Atanasio," answered Don Cesare, and a knavish smile might have been seen to flash for one instant from his eyes: "Yesterday, when we let down the good Evolino from the rocks into the sea, everybody was crying for rain! rain! What was the rain to me? I shouted with them because I wished them well, but as for me, in the depths of my heart I asked for something quite different."
"So, so!" said Father Atanasio, and poked the Syndic in the side behind Don Cesare's back. He looked triumphantly around at those who followed, winked at them with pompous, victorious eyes, and seemed suddenly to grow a head taller than all the others, in the consciousness of possessing such penetrating power of divining the hidden secrets of the human breast.
"Yes, that is allowed to every one," continued Don Cesare, "and look! the good Evolino has fulfilled the others' wish, and so I think to myself; yours, too, will be fulfilled, Don Cesare, for there is not one in the whole community that treats him as well as I do."
He thought about the foreign ships all the time he was speaking, and gave a hasty glance toward the horizon, but nothing was to be seen there, and he was forced to confine his hopes and longings to Carmela and Nino. They had arrived at the foot of the promontory.
"I think we will remain below," said the Syndic; "the rope will be hard to draw from the cliff, and, besides, some harm might easily happen to the saint."
No one made any objection to this wise precaution, and on they went over the steep path, in a long single file, as a flock of geese marches, one behind the other--first the Syndic, then the padre, then Don Cesare, then the rest. The rocks had grown very slippery from the wet; every time a cowled figure lost footing and tumbled, more or less ridiculously, into the sand, or caught at a neighbor's arm, or dress, or leg, then arose a great laughing and screaming, and so the whole company by degrees was brought into the best possible humor and unanimity of mind.
Suddenly the procession came to a stop. The Syndic had turned pale as chalk, and stood rooted to the ground. They could see his fat cheeks shake, and his knees tremble, and were uncertain whether it was the strong wind, or a terrible fright that made his hair rise up and stand stiffly out all round his head.
"Holy Madonna!" they heard him gasp; "holy Madonna!"
"What is it? what is the matter?" they cried from every side, crowding forward, and pitching over the rocks and through the water. But they one and all stiffened with horror when they saw Saint Pancras, whom they had thrown into the sea the day before, standing in the hollow of the rocks, and, oh, fearful sight! holding his head in his arms! and, oh, inconceivable miracle! the key of his chapel which they had left in the door, now hung from the saint's finger!
Dumb from terror, old and young, men and women, remained as if spellbound; cold shivers ran down their backs; they pressed closer together, every hand made the sign of the cross on forehead and breast at the same moment, every mouth murmured the prayer to the blessed Madonna.
Even the wily Don Cesare, who had very distinct information concerning the history of this miracle, felt himself agitated and overcome by the general consternation; he, too, felt his knees knock together and his blood congeal, and he made the sign of the cross and muttered, without hypocrisy, "Holy Madonna, protect us!"
Father Atanasio was the first to venture forward, as belonged to his office. Trembling in every limb, he pushed the Syndic aside, advanced with hands raised and eyes directed toward heaven, to the headless saint and sank, shaking, upon his knees, his example followed by the whole company. His eyes at first sought the place where saints and men are generally accustomed to carry their heads; there his glance found nothing but the grewsome wooden stump, out of which ragged splinters were sticking up in place of a neck, and, shuddering. Father Atanasio lowered his gaze to Evolino's breast, where the head lay on the crossed arms. But a new terror overcame him when he beheld the wild strange alteration of that countenance, and he had to support himself with both hands on the earth in order not to fall forward as if stunned by a blow. But the others thought their padre was engaged in fervent devotion, and muttered their litanies with lowered eyes and increased zeal.
"San Pancrazio, dear, only Evolino," prayed the sly Don Cesare, in the silence of his heart, "now remember me, and send Father Atanasio a lucky thought. Don't forget that my little sister is up there in your chapel with that cursed hound Nino; and, dear Evolino, send this wanton coxcomb Nino a lucky thought, too, lest something unlucky befall this day!"
Thinking, hearing, and the sending of lucky thoughts were perhaps a trifle more difficult to the poor beheaded saint than formerly, when he was whole, at any rate it was a long time before Father Atanasio awoke from his stupor. But all at once it seemed as if a bright beam of light fell upon his mind, and he gathered himself together.
"I understand the sign," murmured he, kissing the saint's feet; "be thou blessed forever, San Pancrazio of Evolo."
Then he rose, turned to the anxiously-gazing crowd, spread out his arms, and said:
"The saint has worked a miracle upon us. A miracle hath he wrought upon himself. The long-desired rain he sent us by night, and he has ascended, victorious over human devices, from the sea in which you had sunk him, and here he stands, as a saint should, upon dry ground. And behold him! for a sign that henceforth a new and a purer tie exists between the patron and his people; with his own hands he has taken from his shoulders that ancient heathen head, which he formerly wore to your harm, and in defiance of the blessed Madonna. And as a sign of that which he requires from you he has brought down the key of his chapel and hung it on his finger, that you shall set up a new image for him there; that you may know the old Evolino, as you have been wont to call him, in remembrance of past times, dies to-day and a new San Pancrazio enters into his place, a true and blessed saint, who will love and protect you, and will never more allow the old heathen who hides under these venerable garments to afflict your town and fields with drought, bad harvests, and deadly pestilence."
Thus spake the honest father. The Syndic nodded applause, and Don Cesare, of course, did the same. Then the saint was lifted with careful hands and laid on the shoulders of several stout fellows; but the head Father Atanasio placed with solemn importance in Don Cesare's hands; then, holding the chapel key aloft in his own right hand, he led the procession, which slowly and in deep silence moved toward the heights above and the little sanctuary under the olive trees.
There was a couple there already, who had passed a bad night. Like one bereft of reason, Carmela had thrown herself on the earth before the altar.
"The saint! the saint!" sobbed the girl wildly. "It was he; he called my name. I saw him as he came sweeping up the steep precipice. He followed me; his halo streamed angry light through the darkness. Holy Mother of God, I beseech thee defend and forgive thy sinful child!"
Nino tried in vain to quiet her.
"No," she cried, pushing him from her, as he sought to raise her from the ground, "I followed you on an evil path, Nino; the saint has warned us, and he will punish us. Did you not hear how he threw the door to behind us? Nino, Nino, there is but one atonement--that you acknowledge me as your true and honorable wife before this altar."
Nino faltered. The image of San Pancrazio stood before his own eyes, and he could not shut it out. He, too, felt a tremor in his very soul, for, however secure and sceptical he might represent himself, in the depths of his consciousness there always remained the inherited fear of the unknown--the secret dread of heaven and hell. In his heightened pulse-beats, which he could distinctly hear, this feeling knocked loudly at his heart.
A close, sultry air filled the chapel. Through the one little round window over the altar a dusky glimmer fell, scarce brighter than the surrounding darkness. Nino reached up and tried the door. He wanted to open it, to let in the fresh night air, to scare away the fantasies which were slowly surrounding his senses. But the door lay fast in bolt and hinge and would not yield to his straining. He sought the latch with groping fingers, and found that the key had been turned and drawn out.
"Santo Diavolo!" he cried, ice-cold shivers running through every limb. "The door is locked!"
"Locked, yes, locked," cried Carmela, springing from her knees, and throwing herself on the threshold. "I saw him, how he followed at our heels, and how he raised his hand with threatening gesture. Yes, I heard him, and I saw him, and it is he who has locked us in his sanctuary, that our deed may be expiated."
Thus the poor child raved in feverish terror. Nino listened without a word. What should he do? What would come of all this? It was no use to think of flight. The old stones lay fast one upon another, and fast lay the old oaken doors on their hinges. In the morning all Roccastretta would come to replace the saint on his pedestal, for he had sent the rain without a doubt. Nino could hear the big drops pattering against the window-panes. And they would find him here with Carmela. Alone with Carmela in the chapel! And then? When Don Cesare stepped across the threshold? Nino knew Don Cesare and what he had to expect from him. It would be a battle for life and death, and all the men and women, Father Atanasio and the Syndic--every one would be on the side of Carmela's injured brother. Verily this was not the ending he had imagined for his love adventure when he tempted Carmela to follow him to his quiet Casina.
Ever blacker lowered the night, heavier and closer hung the clouds, thicker poured the rain. And as Nino heard the rush of heavy drops on the roof, and felt the moist breath of the drinking earth which came in through the little window, it seemed as if something broke within his heart, and a voice cried from the depths: "Every drop of rain that falls from heaven proclaims the power of the saint, and can you doubt the miracle which he has worked on you?"
Next morning, when the procession, led by Father Atanasio, stopped, with the mutilated image of the patron saint, before his chapel, and when the key entered in the lock, and the lock creaked, and the door, swollen by moisture, turned slowly and heavily on its hinges, there was one there whose heart beat violently, and whose blood boiled at fever heat, one whose hand lay carelessly as if toying but none the less fast and grimly on the handle of his knife--for who could foresee what was going to happen? But Don Cesare breathed more freely, and let his knife go, and with difficulty retained composure enough to play out therôlehe had assumed, when the padre stood still on the threshold with a cry of astonishment, while out of the dusk from the foot of the altar two figures advanced, kneeled with clasped hands before the good father, and amid the astounded silence that fell upon them all, Nino's voice was heard saying humbly:
"Saint Pancras has wrought a miracle not on our fields and gardens alone; upon me and upon Carmela in the last night another has fallen. How it happened, ask me not. The saint led us into this chapel with his own hand, with his own hand closed the door and took away the key. At the foot of his altar we have pledged each other our wedded troth, and at the foot of his altar we beg you, Father Atanasio, to bless the banns."
Then the little Don Cesare exulted aloud:
"Ha!" he cried, waving his little hands in the air, "that was what I prayed yesterday of the good, dear Evolino for myself. That was it. Father Atanasio! He gave you rain, and me he gave a brother-in-law. Long live Evolino!"
And in his heart he added something more, which he did not think it necessary to say aloud:
"Evolino," thought he, "you were wiser than I, and led me to a kingdom, when I only looked for a she ass. The ships will come to the harbor of themselves, but of himself never would this rascal Nino have taken my little sister for his wife."
A few weeks later, when the wedding of Carmela and Nino was celebrated with great pomp in the chapel of Evolo, a new image of the saint stood on the altar, a gay, brand new image, which Don Cesare, with divers other matters, had brought from a foreign ship that lay at anchor in the harbor of Roccastretta, and had placed in the chapel in remembrance of this day of miracles. The old Evolino, however, he claimed for himself, and no one grudged him that worm-eaten and broken relic.
At the foot of the rocks of Evolo, in a cool arbor, searched through by sun, and moonbeams, at the Casina, where Nino and Carmela were to make their home, Don Cesare had set up the image--mended, and decently restored by his own hand. It stood in a niche of stone under a roof of fragrant orange trees, beside the ivy-wreathed Greek marble basin into which the crystal spring of Evolo poured; and almost it seemed as if the Evolino felt himself far more at ease amid these surroundings, near the finely-cut bas-reliefs from his ancient temple, with the free winds sighing around him, than above in his musty chapel. A singular peacefulness seemed to have settled down upon his old head, stripped of beard, and hair, and halo; he looked with Olympian smile upon the youthful pair, gaily pursuing a frolicsome existence at his feet, on this their wedding evening, and a faint spark gleamed in his painted eyes, as Nino, who must have learned some lore of the ancient gods, poured a goblet of fragrant Muscatel upon the ground before him, and laughingly cried:
"To the gods belong the first drops; honor and glory to the gods and the saints!"
When they had all departed, and even Don Cesare had taken leave of him with a friendly, confidential nod, and when at last the Evolino stood alone in the silent moonlight, a soft whisper fell from his lips:
"In spite of all, you feel yourselves drawn back again to the ancient heathen gods, you dear gay heathen folk; and though new names have taken the place of the old ones, in you, my cheerful, good-natured, grown-up children, I recognize my early worshippers once more. In spite of time and change you are they who used to lay fragrant wreaths on the old god's altar, in the pillared temple on the cliff, and singing, and laughing, and shouting, passed their shouting, singing, laughing life away!"
Silently gleaming, the eternal stars beckoned, softly splashing, the rippling spring murmured a kindly, comforting answer to the poor forgotten God of the Winds.