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.
Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - First book - VII. The Bells of San Pasquale
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92 THE MIRACLES OF AJVTICHRIST
till yesterday. The Madonna perhaps had placed
herself in such a dark corner of the Cathedral so that
no one should be able to see her. She was so black,
and had a railing in front of her. No one could see
her.
But to-day Donna Micaela had seen her. To-day
the Madonna had had a festival, and she had been
moved from her niche. The floor and walls of her
chapel had been covered with white almond-blossoms,
and she herself had stood down on the altar, dark
and high, surrounded by the white glory.
But when Donna Micaela had seen the image she
had been filled with despair; for the image was no
Madonna. No, she had prayed to no Madonna.
Oh, a shame, a shame ! It was plainly an old heathen
goddess. She had a helmet, not a crown; she had
no child on her arm; she had a shield. It was a
Pallas Athene. It was no Madonna. Oh, no; oh, no!
It was like the people of Diamante to worship
such an image. It was like them to set up such a
blasphemy and worship it! Did he knew what was
the worst misfortune? Their Madonna was so ugly.
She was disfigured, and she had never been a work
of art. She was so ugly that one could not bear to
look at her.
And to have been deceived by all the thousand
votive offerings that hung in the chapel; to have
been fooled by all the legends about her! To have
wasted three weeks in praying to her! Why had
she not been helped? She was no Madonna, she
was no Madonna.
They walked along the path on the town wall
running around Monte Chiaro. The whole world
was white about them. A white mist wreathed the
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