Being unable to persuade the crowd to rise, he himself fell upon his knees.

Then those around him rose, and the excited movement and the cry of _"La_ _miracolata, la miracolata!"_ having reached them, they forced him to rise also; he did not seem to have heard.

_"La miracolata!"_ each one repeated to him.

_"La miracolata!"_ And they searched his face for a trace of satisfaction at the miracle, with eyes that called out "She is coming to you! You have healed her!" They acted as if he had not spoken to them only a few minutes before.
The young girl was coming down, as pale and sallow as the stony, sun-baked path, her gentle, sad, little face, resting against her sister's arm.

And the sister looked sad also.