It was faith, it was guiltless error, it was love,
it was suffering, it was a visible something belonging to the union of
the highest mysteries of the Universe. The ground itself, the great sad
face of the church, and the small humble faces of the little houses
surrounding the square, seem to understand, to reverence it. In his
mind's eye Giovanni saw the image of a dead woman who had been dear to
him, and who had believed thus; a cold wave flowed through his blood,
his knees bent under him. The little band with the sufferers passed on,
singing, their faces uplifted:
"_Mater Christi_." The kneeling women answered with bowed heads:
"_Ora pro nobis_."
Then they rose, and followed the procession, while three or four women
of Jenne said aloud:
"He does not wish it, he does not wish it!"
One of them explained to Maria that the Saint did not wish the sick
brought to him. Their words were not heeded, so they also joined the
procession, anxious to see what would happen.
Maria and Giovanni also, who, at first, had been loath to do so, started
on, following the eager Noemi.
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