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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236 THE MIR A CLES OF ANTICHRIST
when Father Rossi held the mass here. What shall
we do in another church, Donna Elisa? There we
shall not be able to see anything. They have
extinguished the light of our eyes anew.”
Donna Elisa’s heart grew as warm as if molten
lava had run over it. It was certainly a great wrong
they were doing to those blind unfortunates.
So Donna Elisa went over to Don Matteo.
“Your Reverence,” she said, “have you spoken
to the syndic?”
“Alas, alas, Donna Elisa,” said Don Matteo, “it
is better for you to try to talk to him than for me.”
“Your Reverence, the syndic is a stranger;
perhaps he has not heard of the blind.”
“ Signor Voltaro has been to him; Father Rossi
has been to him; and I too, I too. He answers
nothing but that he cannot change what is decided
in the town Junta. We all know, Donna Elisa,
that the town Junta cannot take back anything. If
it has decided that your cat shall hold mass in the
Cathedral, it cannot change it.”
Suddenly there was a movement in the church.
A large blind man came in. “Father Elia!” the
people whispered, “Father Elia!”
Father Elia was the head man of the company of
blind singers, who always collected there. He had
long white hair and beard, and was beautiful as one
of the holy patriarchs.
He, like all the others, went forward to Father
Succi. He sat down beside him, and leaned his
head against the coffin.
Donna Elisa went up to Father Elia and spoke to
him. “Father Elia,” she said, “you ought to go to
the syndic.”
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