Bishop, the _ombrellino_ over him, passed on slowly round the circle;
and the people cried to Him whom he bore, as they cried two thousand
years ago on the road to the city of David. Surely He will be pitiful
upon this day--the Jubilee Year of His Mother's graciousness, the octave
of her assumption to sit with Him on His throne!

"_Mère du Sauveur, priez pour nous!_"

"_Jésus, vous êtes mon Seigneur et mon Dieu!_"

Yet there was no movement.

If ever "suggestion" could work a miracle, it must work it now. "We
expect the miracles during the procession to-morrow and on Sunday," a
priest had said to me on the previous day. And there I stood, one of a
hundred thousand, confident in expectation, thrilled by that voice,
nothing doubting or fearing; there were the sick beneath me, answering
weakly and wildly to the crying of the priest; and yet there was no
movement, no sudden leap of a sick man from his bed as Jesus went by, no
vibrating scream of joy--"_Je suis guéri! Je suis guéri!_"--no
tumultuous rush to the place, and the roar of the _Magnificat_, as we
had been led to expect.

The end was coming near now. The monstrance had reached the image once
again, and was advancing down the middle. The voice of the priest grew
more passionate still, as he tossed his arms and cried for mercy

"_Jésus, ayez pitié de nous!--ayez pitié[Transcriber's Note: original
had "pitiê"] de nous!_"