Moreover, now that my illusions concerning it were gone, the sound was
clearly no more than he had said. I recognized its nature. It might have
intrigued a sane man for a day or a night. But it could never longer have
deceived any but one whose mind was become fevered with fanatic ecstasy.
Then I looked again at the image in the niche, and the pendulum of my faith
was suddenly checked in its counter-swing. About that image there could be
no delusions. The whole country-side had witnessed the miracle of the
bleeding, and it had wrought cures, wondrous cures, among the faithful.
They could not all have been deceived. Besides, from the wounds in the
breast there were still the brown signs of the last manifestation.
But when I had given some utterance to these thoughts Gervasio for only
answer stooped and picked up a wood-man's axe that stood against the wall.
With this he went straight towards the image.
"Fra Gervasio!" I cried, leaping to my feet, a premonition of what he was
about turning me cold with horror. "Stay!" I almost screamed.
But too late. My answer was a crashing blow. The next instant, as I sank
back to my seat and covered my face, the two halves of the image fell at my
feet, flung there by the friar.
"Look!" he bade me in a roar.
Fearfully I looked.
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