Indignant and amazed,
and wishing to be revenged upon that frataccio, the station-master
telegraphed to Loreto, that in
A certain carriage of a certain train
was travelling a friar, whom it behoved the authorities to arrest
for having hindered the departure of the said train for fifteen
minutes, and also for the offense of mendicancy within a railway
station. Accordingly, the Loreto police sought the offender, but, in
the compartment where he had travelled, found no person; there,
however, lay a letter couched in these terms: "He who was in this
waggon under the guise of a humble friar, has now ascended into the
arms of his Santissima Madre Maria. He wished to make known to the
world how easy it is for him to crush the pride of unbelievers, or
to reward those who respect religion."
Nothing more was discoverable; wherefore the learned of the Church
- i dotti della chiesa - came to the conclusion that under the
guise of a friar there had actually appeared "N. S. G. C." The
Supreme Pontiff and his prelates had not yet delivered a judgment in
the matter, but there could be no sort of doubt that they would
pronounce the authenticity of the miracle. With a general assurance
that the good Christian will be saved and the unrepentant will be
damned, this remarkable little pamphlet came to an end. Much
verbiage I have omitted, but the translation, as far as it goes, is
literal. Doubtless many a humble Tarentine spelt it through that
evening, with boundless wonder, and thought such an intervention of
Providence worthy of being talked about, until the next stabbing
case in his street provided a more interesting topic.
Possibly some malevolent rationalist might note that the name of the
railway station where this miracle befell was nowhere mentioned. Was
it not open to him to go and make inquiries at Loreto?
CHAPTER VI
THE TABLE OF THE PALADINS
For two or three days a roaring north wind whitened the sea with
foam; it kept the sky clear, and from morning to night there was
magnificent sunshine, but, none the less, one suffered a good deal
from cold. The streets were barer than ever; only in the old town,
where high, close walls afforded a good deal of shelter, was there a
semblance of active life. But even here most of the shops seemed to
have little, if any, business; frequently I saw the tradesman asleep
in a chair, at any hour of daylight. Indeed, it must be very
difficult to make the day pass at Taranto. I noticed that, as one
goes southward in Italy, the later do ordinary people dine; appetite
comes slowly in this climate. Between colazione at midday and
pranzo at eight, or even half-past, what an abysm of time! Of
course, the Tarantine never reads; the only bookshop I could
discover made a poorer display than even that at Cosenza - it was
not truly a bookseller's at all, but a fancy stationer's. How the
women spend their lives one may vainly conjecture.
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