Note: Translator Pauline Bancroft Flach died in 1966, less than 70 years ago. Therefore, this work is protected by copyright, restricting your legal rights to reproduce it. However, you are welcome to view it on screen, as you do now. Read more about copyright.
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262 THE MIRACLES OF ANTICHRIST ’
people said now that they ought to go out and tear
up the track as soon as a rail was laid on it.
A day of misfortune, a day of misfortune! Donna
Micaela felt farther from her object than ever.
“ What is the good of our collecting money at our
bazaar? “ she said despondingly.
The day promised ill for her bazaar. In the
afternoon it began to rain. It had not rained so in
Diamante since the day when the clocks rang. The
clouds sank to the very house-roofs, and the water
poured down from them. People were wet to the
skin before they had been two minutes in the street.
Towards six o’clock, when Donna Micaela’s bazaar
was to open, it was raining its very hardest. When
she came out to the monastery, there was no one
there but those who were to help in serving and
selling.
She felt ready to cry. Such an unlucky day!
What had dragged down all these adversities upon
her?
Donna Micaela’s glance fell on a strange man who
was leaning against a pillar, watching her. Now
all at once she recognized him. He was the
jet-tatore — the jettatore from Catania, whom people had
taught her to fear as a child.
Donna Micaela went quickly over to him. “ Come
with me, signor,” she said, and went before him.
She wished to go so far away that no one should
hear them, and then she wished to beg of him never
to come before her eyes again. She could do no
less. He must not ruin her whole life.
She did not think in what direction she went.
Suddenly she was at the door of the monastery
church and turned in there.
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