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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238 THE MIR A CLES OF ANTICHRIST
received a letter from the Viceroy that we might
hold our meetings in perpetuity in Santa Lucia in
Gesu. And I showed him the letter.”
“What did he answer?”
“He laughed at me.”
“ Can none of the other gentlemen help you ?”
“I have been to them, Donna Elisa. All the
morning I have been sent from Herod to Pilatus.”
“Father Elia,” said Donna Elisa with lowered
voice, “have you forgotten to call on the saints? ”
“I have called on both the black Madonna and
San Sebastiano and Santa Lucia. I have prayed to
as many as I could name.”
“Do you think, Father Elia,” said Donna Elisa,
and lowered her voice still more, “that Don Antonio
Greco was helped, because he promised money to
Donna Micaela’s railway?”
“I have no money to give,” said the old man,
disconsolately.
“Still, you ought to think of it, Father Elia,”
said Donna Elisa, “since you are in such straits.
You ought to try if, by promising the Christ-image
that you yourself and all who belong to your
company will speak and sing of the railway, and
persuade people to give contributions to it, you may
keep your church. We do not know if it can help,
but one ought to try every possible thing, Father
Elia. It costs nothing to promise.”
“I will promise anything for your sake,” said the
old man.
He laid his old blind head again against the black
coffin, and Donna Elisa understood that he had
given the promise in his desire to be left in peace
with his sorrow.
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