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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206 THE MIR A CLES OF ANTICHRIST
trouble with our great benefactress. You will only
make her more angry. Go away, I tell you! You
wolf, you man-eater, go away!”
Fra Felice was quite as enraged as the landlord,
and tried to force his way past him. But then the
latter took him by the arm, and without further
notice marched him down the steps.
Fra Felice was a man who had received a great
gift from his Creator. In Sicily, where everybody
plays in the lottery, there are people who have the
power to foretell what numbers will win at the next
drawing. He who has such second sight is called
“polacco,” and is most often found in some old
begging monk. Fra Felice was such a monk. He
was the greatest polacco in the neighborhood of
Etna.
As every one wished him to tell them a winning
tern or quartern, he was always treated with great
consideration. He was not used to be taken by the
arm and be thrown into the street, Fra Felice.
He was nearly eighty years old and quite
dried-up and infirm. As he staggered away between the
wagons, he stumbled, trod on his cloak, and almost
fell. But none of the porters and drivers that stood
by the door talking and lamenting had time that day
to think of Fra Felice.
The old man tottered along in his heavy homespun
cloak. He was so thin and dry that there seemed
to be more stiffness in the cloak than in the monk.
It seemed to be the old cloak that held him up.
Donna Micaela caught up with him and gently
drew the old man’s arm through her own. She
could not bear to see how he struck against the
lamp-posts and fell over steps. But Fra Felice
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